Near To You
by TheDarkSideisSexy
Summary: When Hermione is viciously mauled by a werewolf and revived by none other than the spiteful Professor Snape, an entirely unforeseen and perhaps extremely consequential twist of fate is triggered. Let’s shake up Harry's storyline a bit, shall we?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters or places...sadly. Okay, so this chapter and all of the other re-uploads that will follow will be basically the same as the originals, but they should hopefully read better. I'll probably never be satisfied with my own work without redoing it tons of times, but to spare you all the annoyance of having to deal with my compulsions more than once, I'm pretty sure that this will be the only batch of re-uploads. Alright then, with all of that said...enjoy ;)**

**Near To You**

_A Harry Potter Fanfiction_

___Chapter One_

It was an uncommonly chilly Wednesday night that found Hermione Granger and her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, enjoying several mugs of butterbeer in spongy, oversized armchairs, and the company of the Hogwarts groundskeeper, Hagrid. With pleasantly-dulled senses, they were engaged in a lazy chat around Hagrid's crackling fireplace, which, if nothing else, provided a much-needed moment of distraction from the otherwise hectic world around them. With The Dark Lord officially at large once again, an acute, panicky climate had gripped the magical community, and though Hogwarts afforded Hermione and her friends the highest degree of protection to be found anywhere, the reports of Death Eater attacks and mysterious disappearances flying in every day via the Daily Prophet were increasingly unsettling. Dumbledore had announced at the start of the Fall term several weeks ago that there would be an increase in the castle's security to the point where Aurors now patrolled the entrances, a complex array of defensive spells formed an invisible barrier around the entire parameter, and student traffic in and out of the castle was being strictly monitored, much to the delight of Filch, who took sadistic pleasure in harassing the students with Probity-Probes.

Hermione set down her mug and glanced at her watch: five minutes until curfew. She cringed upon recalling the hefty punishment that befell Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan when they were caught sneaking back into the castle after eleven a couple nights ago: she certainly did not want to spend her evenings buffing and shining suits of armor in Filch's grimy office. She hauled herself out of the cushioned depths of her armchair, attracting the attention of her friends, and gestured towards the door.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Hagrid, but we really must be going. Come on hurry up, Ron! It's nearly past curfew, and we don't have Harry's invisibility cloak this time," she reminded them, while attempting to shepherd the group out the door.

"Come on 'Mione, it only takes a minute to get back to the castle – we've got loads of time," Ron hiccupped, stumbling back to his chair, and almost knocking over a precariously perched jar of blast-ended skrewt larvae in the process.

"Alright Ronald, time to go. Up you get!" Hermione chirped. As she dragged him out the door he broke into a rousing rendition of "Do The Hippogriff". She turned to Harry, frowning, "How much butterbeer did he have to drink anyway?"

Harry grinned sheepishly at her, "Oh, not _that_ much."

When they were halfway back to the castle, Harry suddenly stopped.

"Come on, Harry, we'll already be late enough!" Hermione groaned.

"Shh! Did you hear that?" Harry whispered, and she listened to the odd silence hanging in the air. The full moon had slid silently out from behind a dark cloud, bathing their surroundings in a ghostly sheen. Even with the additional illumination, Hermione couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary, although the sepulchral atmosphere was giving her the creeps.

"Hear what…?" Hermione broke off when she picked up on a distinct rustling. She peered into the darkness for the source of the noise.

"I think there's something behind that tree," Harry said, while cautiously moving closer to a gnarled, old oak that loomed in front of them.

"Oh, it's probably nothing; we really ought to be going," she said, as confidently as she could. But then, a scream welled up in her throat as an enormous shadow suddenly appeared overhead.

With a sickening thud, it landed on top of her, driving her body violently into the ground, and forcing the air out of her lungs. Hermione gasped for breath, tasting blood mixed with soil as her face was shoved into the dirt. Her mind whirred frantically, attempting to identify her attacker. Whoever – or whatever—it was, its mass was crushing her, and she thought she felt something furry brushing against her bare legs. A chilling fear pounded through her as she realized the significance of the blindingly full moon. Craning her neck around painfully, she froze as she caught her first glimpse of the huge, lanky werewolf leering down at her greedily.

"Harry…hey Harry… GET OVER HERE NOW!" Ron yelped, and Harry came sprinting from around the tree trunk. "Bloody Hell…" Harry breathed, his eyes wide, glued to the werewolf.

"It's got Hermione!" Ron shouted, pointing to their friend who was trapped under the creature's imposing bulk. Harry rushed forward and fired a stinging hex at it, only causing it to snarl in annoyance. "Oi! Ron, you want to give me a hand here?" Harry called to his friend who was still staring a bit dazedly at the scene before him. At Harry's instruction, Ron suddenly surfaced from his stupor; he whipped out his wand and started hurling spells at the huge wolf with little success, on account of his severely impaired hand-eye coordination. All of the jinxes they tried seemed to bounce off the creature's thick hide uselessly. Irritated, the werewolf growled fiercely and opened its jaws wide, turning its head back to Hermione, as she squirmed frantically beneath it.

Hermione cringed as the werewolf opened its expansive mouth and she saw its razor sharp teeth glistening with saliva in the moonlight. Its tongue flicked out, licking its chops in anticipation of such a fortunate, helpless meal. With one heavy swipe of a paw, it flipped her over like a ragdoll, ogling her neck with gleaming eyes. She struggled violently to reach her wand, but the werewolf's claws held her anchored to the ground.

"_Stupify_!" Harry cried, in a desperate rage. The werewolf yelped as the spell connected forcefully. It reared up onto its hind legs, but immediately dropped back down again, apparently in some sort of pain. On all fours, it advanced towards Harry, snarling. He backed up slowly, brandishing his wand shakily in front of him. He could see the werewolf's body entirely now that it was out from under the shadows of the oak tree, and he noticed that its back legs and haunches were covered in blood that he guessed was its own, but certainly had not been caused by his or Ron's spells. Intending to provoke it further, he fired a well-aimed hex at one of the creature's wounded legs and was rewarded when it bellowed in pain. Enraged, the werewolf trained its gaze on Harry and renewed its prowl towards him, though limping slightly.

"Ron, go get Hermione…_now_!" Harry hissed, hoping the werewolf would remain focused on him. But Ron's sudden movement towards Hermione seemed to snap the werewolf out of its trance. It turned and lunged powerfully towards its weakened prey.

"_Stupify_!" Harry yelled again as it turned away from him, but the werewolf had already leapt into the air. Ron let out a stream of curses as it landed between him and Hermione, growling menacingly.

"Hermione, hang on!" Harry shouted as he lobbed a sizeable rock at the werewolf's head.

Hermione stared into the creature's crazed, pale eyes, bracing herself for the pain that would come when its jaws ripped into her throat. Just then, Harry's projectile caught the werewolf squarely in the temple and Hermione saw its yellow eyes roll up in their sockets. Its roar reverberated in her head as it collapsed on top of her and her vision went black.


	2. Chapter 2

___Chapter Two _

"Come on, we've got to get this thing off her before she suffocates!" Harry panted as he strained to roll the werewolf off of Hermione's limp form.

"You reckon you could levitate its body for a second?" he grunted, failing in his attempts to move the huge creature. Ron screwed up his face in concentration and trained his wand on the werewolf. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Ron's spell only held the massive deadweight aloft for a moment, but Harry's reflexes were sharp, and he quickly tugged Hermione out. Seconds later, the werewolf thudded to the ground, releasing a rancid cloud of silvery fur into the air.

"Blimey, Harry…" Ron said slowly as he stared down at his battered friend. Harry, who had seen too many people get hurt while he looked on helplessly, knew that time was of the essence if they were going to save Hermione.

"Get up, Ron! Quickly, we've got to get her inside!" Harry said urgently. "Here, I'll carry her," Ron said, holding out his arms. Harry watched him sway slightly on the spot. "I think you better let me," he responded.

Harry scooped Hermione up in his arms, and Ron followed him at a brisk walk up to the school. Ron tried the first door they came to, and finding it locked, shouted, "_Alohomora_!"

It swung open and they found themselves in one of the dimly lit dungeon corridors. Harry glanced nervously over his shoulder to see if the werewolf had awoken and tailed them, but the night was calm, showing no trace of the events that had just transpired.

"Ron, take her for a moment. Be careful!" he placed Hermione in Ron's arms temporarily before jerking his wand at the door to lock it. He stole a quick glance at Hermione and saw her stir weakly. "Right, now you stay with her and try not to move her too much. I'll go get Dumbledore," Harry instructed his friend.

"Someone's coming, Harry," Ron said quietly.

Harry looked up. Apparently their streak of rotten luck was fated to continue, he thought bitterly, as Professor Snape came striding around the corner. Snape froze when he saw Harry. Then his eyes flashed victoriously at discovering the hapless boy and his friends sneaking into the castle, illicitly, _after curfew_. He lived for moments like these.

Snape opened his mouth on the verge of what Harry assumed was some snide admonitory remark, but then, his triumphant expression contorted slightly upon registering Hermione's lifeless body cradled in Ron's arms. Snape drew his wand and swept down the corridor towards them, muttering an incantation which resulted in the appearance of a stretcher levitating in mid-air. He came to a halt in front of Ron, who tensed noticeably at their sudden close proximity. Snape, however, did not even acknowledge his presence; his black eyes were carefully raking over Hermione's savaged state.

"What happened here?" he demanded tersely.

"She was attacked by a werewolf; we've got to hurry!" Harry implored him.

"Perhaps this will teach you the value of obeying the rules set in place for your own protection. Although you've never really been any good at that, Potter," he snapped, glaring accusatorily at Harry.

Harry bristled, "Sir, you can't possibly think this is my fault!"

"Oh?" Snape said calculatingly, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me Potter, have you ever stopped to consider – at any point over the course of your heroic exploits – that you do seem to have a most unfortunate habit of leaving a trail of casualties in your wake?" As he spoke, he seized Hermione's wrist brusquely, feeling for a pulse. Harry's blood boiled at such a cruel insinuation, but he bit back his temper. Now was definitely not the time to succumb to Snape's provocations.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "Is she – you know…" he trailed off nervously.

"Yes, of course she is alive," Snape said violently. He looked up at Ron as if he might slap him for his stupidity. "Clearly, she has a pulse –which you would surely feel if you weren't so thick!" he chastised him incredulously, and then upon closer inspection of Ron's dilated pupils and slight wobble, he snapped, "Weasley! Are you drunk?" Ron blinked at him. "No, Professor. I mean…not really. You see, it's actually a funny story…" and then he tapered off trying to remember why it was funny. Snape's dark eyes glinted dangerously as he regarded Ron with a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

"Weasley, you intolerable dolt, shut your mouth and make yourself useful!" he seethed, indicating to Ron that he should put Hermione on the stretcher which was now floating towards him.

"Potter, how long ago was the attack?" he asked while watching Ron to make sure he didn't drop the girl.

"Uhh about five minutes ago, I think," Harry said, attempting to quantify the recent blur of chaotic events.

"Was she bitten? Think hard, Potter, this detail will be of the utmost importance. _Stretcher_ _locomotor_," he added once Ron had securely gotten Hermione onto the stretcher.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry had been on the other side of the tree trunk when he heard Ron shout.

"Ron, what happened in the beginning?" Harry asked.

Ron paused a moment to recollect, but at an impatient look from Snape he quickly recounted, "The thing kind of jumped out of the tree at her, and then she was pinned on the ground…I-I don't know, it could've bitten her…" he said without confidence, looking worried.

"A well of information, as always, Weasley," Snape drawled.

Harry jumped in, "We can't be sure, sir, everything just kind of happened so fast. Can't you assume the worst and treat her as if she had been bitten?"

"Things are often not as simple as you seem to think they are, Potter," Snape retorted, and he turned to regard Hermione, frowning.

"Both of you," he said, addressing Harry and Ron, "go and find Dumbledore and tell him what has happened. Alert any teachers you pass that there is a werewolf loose on the grounds. Quickly, go!"

Harry grabbed Ron and they took off at a sprint. Snape conducted the levitating stretcher along with his wand in front of him into the empty Potions classroom. It hovered low atop one of the large tables at the front of the room and at Snape's muttered instruction it disappeared, depositing Hermione's body. The antidote to a Werewolf bite was a quick, but extremely complex potion to make and had to be administered directly to the bite marks as soon as possible.

Snape stood by the empty cauldron in the front of the room and lit a flame under it while summoning the ingredients from the storeroom with his wand. They flew through the air and settled neatly on the table in front of him. He used a self-chopping charm on the mugroot, and with a flourish from his wand several other substances swirled in the air, blending, before dropping into the bubbling water. The next step would require two minutes to pass, and he took this opportunity to assess the girl's wounds.

She was lying slightly crumpled on the table, her face contorted in an unconscious expression of pain. He rolled her onto her side to examine her back. His eyes widened as he took in her blood-soaked jumper, noting the angry gashes ripped through it in several places. He eased her onto her stomach and used a spell to cut the remaining fabric from her body, leaving the mangled remains of the sweater hanging down on either side of the table. Her smooth skin was hideously interrupted by numerous gouges he thought were claw marks, but couldn't be sure. A particularly deep, jagged wound that ran down the center of her back was still slowly oozing blood in thin crimson streams that snaked across her pale flesh.

Snape retrieved a clean cloth from his stores and pointed his wand at it.

"_Aguamenti_," he said, and a thin jet of water seeped into the cloth. Gingerly, he cleaned the skin around the wounds by hand, using a charm to renew the cloth every time it became saturated with blood. Every now and then, Hermione whimpered softly and her fingers twitched involuntarily.

He continued his routine of carefully brewing the antidote potion and monitoring the girl for any signs of consciousness. Suddenly, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway and strode into the room.

"Ah Severus, I see you are well along in the antidote preparation. There is still hope for Miss Granger yet!" he said, in his usual optimistic manner. Moving around to where Hermione lay on the table, Dumbledore bent over her and examined the gashes in her back while Snape stirred the simmering liquid in the cauldron.

"Mmm, yes, these would appear to be claw marks from a relatively large specimen of _Canis lupis_, if I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore mused out loud.

Snape looked up as Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley don't seem to recall Miss Granger actually being bitten"

"Let us hope, for her sake, they managed to get that _small_ detail correct," Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No matter, Severus. Nothing to do now but wait, as they say, for the cauldron to boil," Dumbledore said serenely. Snape looked over to where Dumbledore was seated next to Hermione and thought he saw her eyes flutter open for a second and then close again.

He turned his attention back to the contents of the cauldron, watching closely as the liquid frothed for a moment before settling into a yolky consistency and taking on a luminescent yellow hue.

"It is ready, sir," Snape said, scooping out a generous amount of the potion into a flask. He carried it over as Dumbledore stood up to receive it. Snape watched as Dumbledore siphoned the liquid into his wand and it swirled gracefully around the tip. With a precise hand, Dumbledore traced the gashes on Hermione's back with his wand, applying a thin film of the antidote to each as he did so. If brewed correctly, the potion would turn purple upon contact with werewolf poison, and then begin to neutralize its effects. After Dumbledore had finished, Snape stepped closer and they watched the progress of the liquid intently, looking for any indication of a bite.

A faint violet hue appeared around one of the cuts, but gradually faded back to its original yellow. When nothing further happened, Dumbledore smiled.

"This is most fortunate," he beamed, "Miss Granger appears to have escaped with no serious traces of any contamination. That being said, some of these wounds are particularly extensive and I believe we must take into account the tendency of some types of werewolf poison to appear several days after the bite. They will require some daily attention for the time being, I think. Severus?"

Snape opened his mouth in protest, "Sir, surely Poppy would be the appropriate person to delegate this task to?"

"While I would normally refer my injured students to her, I would prefer for Miss Granger to be in expert hands in the event of anything being discovered. The purification process is, as you know, very complicated. Severus, I'm afraid that you are the only person in whom I have absolute confidence regarding this matter."

Snape scowled at Dumbledore, and muttered something about being taken for granted. After a moment of apparent internal conflict, he looked at Dumbledore with an annoyed expression and nodded his head.

"Fine," he said moodily. Though he hated to admit it, Dumbledore was the one person whose trust he could not betray.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said simply, and turned to leave, "I trust you can tend to Miss Granger's injuries and take her to the hospital wing? If you'll excuse me, I've got a werewolf to catch," he said, disappearing with a wink.

With a sour expression on his face, Snape proceeded to carry out Dumbledore's instructions. He noted that Hermione was gradually regaining her senses as she stirred a bit on the table below him as he dressed her wounds. He pressed one last thick strip of protective gauze onto the gaping scratch at the center of her back when she suddenly cried out and convulsed away from him. The movement seemed to pain her further and she jerked about spastically, threatening to displace the carefully positioned bandages. Snape leaned over her quickly and pinned her forcibly to the desk before she could slip off of it, his hands locked around her forearms.

"Control yourself, Miss Granger, you're only making it worse," he spoke calmly into her ear, while keeping his grip firm. When he felt her tremors subside, he released her and watched her still shaking slightly. She turned her head to look up at him through teary eyes, breathing erratically.

"Do not move," he told her sternly, leaving her to rummage through the store closet a few feet away. He retrieved a vial of a painkiller potion he kept in his private collection for emergency uses. Slightly annoyed at having to use his supply that night, he returned to Hermione, uncorking the vial.

"Sit up and drink this: it will stop the pain temporarily," Snape said.

Hermione looked at him warily.

"Unless you would like to spend the whole night here writhing in agony, I suggest you do as I tell you," he said, curtly.

Hermione shot him a venomous look before she swung her legs over the edge of the table and jerkily pushed herself up into a sitting position. She exhaled sharply as the pain from this extensive movement suddenly hit her full-force. Her eyelids fluttered briefly and she looked as if she might faint. Acting swiftly, Snape deftly tipped her head back and poured the contents of the vial down her throat. Disoriented, her body tipped forward and he caught her against his chest before she slid off the table. Securing her momentarily with a hand at her waist, Snape freed his wand and conjured another stretcher. He hooked his arm under her legs and transferred the girl to the stretcher, careful not to disturb her bandages. Snape animated the stretcher with a flick of his wand and stalked off behind it into the darkened corridor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Near To You**

_A Harry Potter Fanfiction_

___Chapter Three_

Hermione woke with a start, sweat running down her face, expecting to see a pair of yellow orbs gleaming down at her. Instead she was met with an eyeful of white linens, which she groggily registered as belonging to a bed. She stirred slightly beneath the crisp sheets and raised her head to take in her immediate surroundings. The sterile white walls, the high, breezy ceilings, the fresh scent wafting through the air…she must be in the hospital wing. Settling back into her soft pillow, she tried to remember how she had gotten there in one piece. The terrifying attack seemed to be stuck on replay in her mind. She cringed involuntarily as the details came flooding back to her. A massive body pressing cruelly down on her, suffocating her…foul, hot breath on her neck…knife-like claws embedded in her back…searing pain…she fell back gratefully against a strong chest, and a pleasantly secure feeling washed over her.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione frowned in confusion. Obviously there was no one there holding her. Try as she might, she couldn't make any sense out of her garbled memories of dark shapes, low voices, and a burning sensation coursing through her skin. She painfully registered that the last part was occurring at present, and she shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

Madam Pomfrey popped her head out of her office, and seeing Hermione awake, bustled over to her bedside.

"Good morning – or should I say – good evening, dear! You've had a bit of a rough time, I understand," Madam Pomfrey said with a good-natured smile.

"W-what time is it?" Hermione asked, her voice croaky from disuse.

"It's 7 o' clock in the evening, and time for your next dosage of painkiller drought," Madam Pomfrey said, while measuring out some shimmering liquid into a cup.

After swallowing the rather vile-tasting concoction that was handed to her, Hermione realized she must have slept through the entire day after the attack the previous night. As the drought took effect, her senses were blissfully numbed and she began to feel a bit drowsy again.

"Have I just been sleeping this whole time?" Hermione asked, stifling a yawn.

"Out like a light, thanks to Professor Snape's exceptionally strong sleeping potion. No need to worry though, given the severity of your wounds, you'll need all the rest you can get. Just holler if you need me," she said, patting Hermione's hands before walking off to attend to an unfortunate Hufflepuff in the next bed over who had sprouted a series of angry blue welts across his forehead.

Did she just say Professor Snape, Hermione wondered sleepily. However, before she had time to dwell on this bit of information, her eyelids seemed to shut heavily of their own accord and she succumbed to her body's desire to sleep and repair itself.

Several hours later, Hermione opened her eyes lazily to find Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to her bed knitting what appeared to be a pair of stockings.

"Sorry to wake you, Miss Granger. How are you feeling?" he inquired, while the stockings continued to knit themselves.

"Erm, I feel fine, Sir, actually," Hermione said, wondering if she was simply too drugged out to feel any pain.

"Ah, wonderful!" Dumbledore said, resplendently, "Professor Snape has informed me that as of an hour ago, your injuries are responding very well to the antidote and there are still no signs of any serious infection."

"Professor Snape, Sir?" Hermione asked, slightly bewildered.

"Yes, my dear girl, of course you wouldn't remember this, but he brewed the antidote potion that is currently coursing through your veins seeking out and destroying any remnants of werewolf poison. I have instructed him to monitor your progress, and you will need to report to him every evening for a week, I should think, before we can be sure there is no risk of contamination," Dumbledore informed her.

"There is no need to worry," he continued, seeing Hermione's alarmed expression, "Even if some vestiges of the poison do show themselves later, Professor Snape is very skilled in the extraction process. I would not have assigned him to your case if I had any reason to doubt his proficiency."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was more uncomfortable with the idea that there might be werewolf venom floating around inside her body at the moment, or the fact that she would have to go see Snape every evening for a week. She nodded weakly, and Dumbledore stood up to make his way out of the hospital wing.

"Sir?" Hermione called after him.

"Oh why yes, thank you Miss Granger, I had almost forgotten!" Dumbledore chuckled as he waved his hand and the stockings that had still been dutifully knitting themselves beside Hermione's bed vanished.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning to the sun streaming in through the windows, warming her face pleasantly. She felt refreshed and eager to get back to her normal routine, certain that there would be mountainous piles of work for her to make up from missed classes. Madam Pomfrey discharged her from the hospital wing on the condition that she go easy on herself and return if the pain got to be too unbearable.

In a cheery mood, Hermione soon found herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor corridor.

"Good morning! Truffles," she said politely.

"Welcome back," the Fat Lady said, swinging open and admitting Hermione. She climbed through the hole and into the Gryffindor common room. She instantly spotted Harry and Ron sitting on the couch, looking a bit frazzled as they tried to cram for a Charms test they had later that morning.

"You know," she said pointedly, "if you haven't gotten it by now, there's really not much else to be done."

Harry and Ron both looked up and grinned widely when they spotted her.

"Hermione! Welcome back!" they yelled, bounding over to greet her. She hugged them both gingerly, assuring them she was fine multiple times.

"What I really want to know," she said after they were all back on the couch, "is what happened after the attack – I can't remember anything!"

Harry started to narrate, "Well after we pulled you out from under the thing and got you inside, we ran into Snape down by the dungeons –"

"Really was our lucky night," Ron interjected sarcastically.

"You should have seen his face when he realized Ron was drunk!" Harry laughed, although Ron looked a little embarrassed. Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she shook her head disparagingly, remembering the state Ron had been in when they left Hagrid's.

"Well after Snape was through being a git, he conjured up this stretcher and told us to go find Dumbledore. We ran into McGonagall on the way there and told her there was a werewolf outside the castle, and she went with a whole group of teachers to look for the thing, but they didn't find it," Harry said.

"Now they've gone and made up this bloody early curfew and rules about traveling in large groups, and not being outside after dark," Ron grumped, but then glanced at Hermione apologetically, "Not that it's your fault or anything, I just, well, what I meant was…" he trailed off, turning slightly red.

"So how are your injuries, Hermione?" Harry asked, attempting to steer the conversation in another direction.

"Oh," Hermione said, remembering Dumbledore's unpalatable request, "Madam Pomfrey pumped me so full of painkiller draught, they feel fine at the moment, but Dumbledore wants me to go check in with Snape every night for a week. Just to make sure I don't suddenly become a raging monster."  
Ron and Harry's faces screwed up in revulsion.

"Why _him_?" Harry demanded.

"Dumbledore apparently thinks Snape's the resident expert on the matter," Hermione sighed.

"Well just think, Hermione, it can't be as bad as getting attacked by a werewolf," Ron joked, but only received a glare from Hermione.

"Too soon?" he asked Harry guiltily.

"Too soon, mate," Harry said, concealing a grin.

* * *

Their morning classes passed smoothly enough and Hermione was relieved that she hadn't gotten nearly as far behind in her work as she had thought. Ron was berating her for worrying about it at all as the trio made their way down the stairs to the dungeons for their Potions lesson that afternoon.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it. She wasn't even there for the lecture yesterday and she's _still_ the only one who knows the answer," he muttered to Harry.

They filed into the Potions classroom and sat down, getting out their books. Hermione's gaze landed inadvertently on Snape as he surveyed the students with his usual condescending visage. She supposed she should thank him for saving her from potentially becoming a werewolf, but any desire she had to be gracious was rapidly quelled when he glared at her with the same look of subdued disgust she was used to every other day.

Midway through the lesson, Ron turned to Hermione and whispered, "So, I forget to tell you earlier, but I've heard some rumors around the halls about that werewolf who attacked you."

"Oh?" Hermione perked up.

"Yeah, I heard a couple fifth-years saying the teachers suspect it might've been Fenrir Greyback," Ron said.

"He's a pal of Malfoy's! So obviously, he's got to be on Voldemort's side!" Harry hissed.

"But Harry, I don't see how a known supporter of You-Know-Who could've gotten onto Hogwarts grounds. They've set up tons of the most complicated protection spells around the borders," Hermione said.

"I'd bet anything Malfoy's behind this," Harry said excitedly, "I swear I keep seeing him—"

"Potter!" Snape bellowed from the front of the classroom, "Once again, you three seem to find it unnecessary to pay attention. Perhaps fifteen points from Gryffindor will make up for your insolence," he spat.

They glowered at him silently from their seats and quietly resumed their conversation once Snape had given the instruction for the class to rise and collect the ingredients for the potion they would be brewing. As they waited behind the throng of people all attempting to gather dragon scales out of a small cauldron, Harry and Ron kept proposing new ideas as to how the werewolf got onto school grounds only to have them refuted by Hermione's extensive knowledge of the castle's defenses.

Pansy Parkinson, having retrieved her dragon scales, was now pushing her way forcefully back through the crowd. She shoved Hermione as she went past, not even bothering to turn around. Pansy's elbow caught Hermione in the back, and she gave a little gasp and involuntarily winced in pain. She straightened up almost immediately, hoping no one had seen her over-exaggerated reaction, but her stomach dropped when she caught sight of Snape staring at her amusedly.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly.

Her classmates had stopped their feeding-frenzy behavior and were now watching the exchange between Snape and Hermione intently.

Her mortified expression quickly morphed into a stubborn glare at Snape for attempting to publicly humiliate her.

"Not at all, Professor. Everything is fine," she answered him with a forced smile.

The class seemed to hold its breath as he scrutinized her, his face unreadable.

"Very well then, carry on," he said dismissively. Instantly, the tense atmosphere dissolved and the scrabble to get at the dragon scales resumed.

"I don't know what happened in there two nights ago, but I am _not_ some fragile little girl," Hermione fumed as she, Ron, and Harry left the classroom after the lesson, "and if Snape thinks he can hold that over me, then he is dead wrong."

Snape sat at his desk, watching Hermione exit the room. If her damned Gryffindor pride was going to prevent her from seeking any help, he was all the merrier. He already had to give up part of his evenings; he certainly wasn't going to spend any more time than necessary with the presumptuous know-it-all.


	4. Chapter 4

___Chapter Four_

Hermione was falling through darkness. She reached out wildly, grabbing for something – anything – to slow her descent, but her outstretched hands clawed uselessly at the cold air rushing past. Her cries for help only reverberated mockingly before disappearing into the infinite expanse of black space engulfing her. She fell right into a man's unexpected embrace, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her upward. Hermione tried to make out the identity of her savior but his face remained shrouded in shadow.

"Hermione…hey, Hermione…time to wake up now," Ginny said softly, while shaking her awake.

"Oh… hey, Ginny," Hermione mumbled drowsily.

"I'm just waking you for dinner, like you told me," Ginny said. Hermione almost wished she had been allowed to sleep through dinner, as the continued anonymity of this mystery man was starting to drive her crazy. However, her stomach grumbled loudly and she decided it would have to be prolonged a little while longer.

"Right, thanks. Give me a minute and then we'll go," she said, heading to the vanity to fix herself up.

Dinner was over far too quickly for Hermione's liking as she remembered with a sinking feeling that she had to report to Snape's classroom that evening. She glanced over to the staff table and saw that he was already gone. She figured she had better get going or incur his infamous wrath for being late. She said goodbye to her friends, who gave her sympathetic looks, and left the Great Hall.

Hermione paused nervously outside the Potions classroom, steeling herself against the insults that were sure to come. She walked into the room determinedly and, spotting Snape bent over his desk scratching something out on a piece of parchment, cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"You're late, Miss Granger," he said, without looking up.

"I was never given an official time, Sir," Hermione retorted pleasantly, earning herself an icy glare.

"You are to report promptly at 7:30, _for future reference_," he sneered.

"Yes, Professor," she said.

He set down his quill and stalked out from behind the desk.

"Let us proceed. I have very little time this evening to devote to such a…fascinating task," he said sarcastically. Hermione remained stationary, not sure as to the proper protocol in this situation.

"I will need to examine the cuts so as to pronounce them satisfactory enough for Dumbledore's liking," he intoned with growing impatience.

"S-sir," she stuttered in slight disbelief, "You want me to take off my robes?" Hermione realized that she had naively given far too little thought as to what these appointments with Snape would actually involve.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, have you invented, and do you wish to share with me, a means by which to _examine wounds_ through _fabric_?" Snape snapped tiredly.

Apparently, he wouldn't be making this easy for her. Cringing with embarrassment, she pulled her school robes over her head and laid them on a chair. He had moved away from her to retrieve a vial of yellow liquid from a drawer in the desk. She could barely believe what she was doing as she turned her back to him modestly, loosened her tie, unbuttoned her white blouse, and reluctantly unhooked her bra. Clutching her blouse under her chin with both hands to cover her exposed front, she glanced over her shoulder and watched nervously as Snape held his wand over the vial of potion and uttered a spell, drawing the werewolf antidote into his wandtip. He set the container down and walked over to stand behind her. She swiftly whipped her head around and stared straight ahead, her body rigid.

"You may feel a slightly painful sensation. However, it is important that you do not move," he said, as perfunctory as ever. Hermione braced herself. She had a feeling that what Snape viewed as "slightly painful" was probably more akin to "excruciatingly agonizing" for the average person. He waved his hand and her bandages vanished. She felt him move his wand over the open wounds on her back, and the potion spilling from its tip was cool against her exposed skin. Then suddenly, it was as if a fire had erupted up and down her back, searing her flesh. She bowed her head and gritted her teeth against the uncomfortable sensation.

Snape watched her reaction and though he hated to admit it, he was slightly impressed by her ability to remain perfectly still throughout it. He examined her wounds closely, looking for any lingering hints of purple. After he was satisfied that the cuts were sterile, he reapplied the bandages with a swish of his wand, pulled a tiny bottle of painkiller potion out of his pocket, and handed it to Hermione.

She downed the potion swiftly before carefully pulling on her shirt. Hermione wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, but she grudgingly remembered her manners.

"Thank you, Professor. Same time tomorrow night?" she asked. Snape nodded to her dismissively, having already returned to the parchment on his desk. Hermione gathered her robes in her arms and left the classroom, relieved by the intense numbing feeling Snape's painkiller potion was producing in her body.

Upon arriving back at Gryffindor tower, she rejoined Ron and Harry in the common room.

"Well you still appear to be in one piece. What happened?" Harry asked.

"Snape used some sort of antidote to detect any signs of werewolf venom, and luckily I was clean tonight," Hermione said, deciding to skip the awkward details of having to strip off a good deal of her clothing in front of their Potions Master.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked bluntly.

"Like hell," Hermione said grinning, "but I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain."

"Payback for this bloody essay," Ron grumbled, "I swear, Harry, I don't know why we let McGonagall talk Snape into permitting us to take N.E.W.T. level Potions."

"If I didn't need it to become an Auror, you know there's no way I'd have volunteered to spend a second more than I had to with that old dungeon bat. Although, finding this book might just have been one of the luckiest things I've ever done in that class," Harry said, patting his tattered copy of _Advanced Potion Making_.

"Say, Harry, the Half-Blood Prince didn't happen to include any essay writing tips in that book of yours did he?" Ron ventured hopefully.

"I doubt it. Most of what I've found have been changes to instructions and – "

"Oh Harry, you're not still using that stupid book!" Hermione cut across him.

"You know, I wouldn't really call it 'stupid'," Harry said.

"Yeah, the Prince is a bloody genius at Potions," Ron jumped in, "I reckon Harry's even got higher marks than you, Hermione..." Ron shut his mouth quickly at a particularly savage look from Hermione.

"Yes, well, so long as Harry is happy to receive those falsely inflated marks by means of _cheating_ and _dishonesty_, then I have nothing more to say on the subject," she said bitingly, then plucked a textbook from her schoolbag and marched over to a vacant armchair in indignant silence. Harry and Ron merely shrugged at each other, and then realized how unwise it had been to piss Hermione off that particular evening since they were nowhere near finished Snape's record-length essay.

After some further procrastination and therapeutic Snape-bashing on the boys' part, they were all three soon busy finishing up their schoolwork for the night. Predictably, Hermione was done first, and after bidding a slightly huffy goodnight to Harry and Ron, she retired to the girls' dormitory for the evening.


	5. Chapter 5

___Chapter Five_

Two nights later, Hermione was standing outside the Potions classroom at 7:25, waiting for Snape to arrive. From what she could discern by craning her head around to look in her bathroom mirror before showering, she seemed to be healing well. Although there had been a moment the night before when Snape had hesitated while administering the antidote, but afterwards he had not deigned to comment on the matter when she inquired. By promptly doing everything he told her and holding her tongue whenever she felt the urge to snap at him, Hermione had managed to get through the previous two evenings with her caustic professor relatively unscathed. Perhaps he felt that insulting her was much more effective in public, or that humiliating her was less gratifying than having her out of his sight as soon as possible. Nevertheless, as she reviewed their sessions, conducted in almost perfect silence, she began to think it strange how he had been acting almost _civil_ to her.

The real Snape silently appeared around the corner, causing Hermione to start. Glancing at her, he strode through the door.

"Come along Miss Granger," he called sharply. She followed him inside, already fingering the top button on her shirt. She didn't bother wearing her school robes anymore as they proved especially cumbersome to remove. She was, however, still uneasy about exposing herself to him, and she felt compelled to watch him over her shoulder as he prepared the antidote vial. She realized, after Snape was standing behind her, that she had left her hair down and it was undoubtedly obscuring a good number of her wounds. Cursing herself for not having the sense to wear it up, she hastily debated whether or not to risk revealing herself by removing a hand from the shirt she held in front of her.

Surprisingly enough, he solved this problem for her. Gathering up her long, wavy hair with a precise hand, he moved it so that it fell cascading over her shoulder, his fingers lightly grazing her neck in the process.

The brief second of contact sent a slight shiver down her spine, and she became acutely aware of his every movement behind her. Hermione's vision clouded momentarily and she felt her heart beating abnormally quickly in her chest. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the moment passed and Hermione stood stock still, hoping her bizarre reaction had gone unnoticed.

Snape, however, had felt Hermione quiver at his touch. With raised eyebrows, he continued his procedure, noting how her breath seemed to come faster than usual, and her neck was peculiarly flushed. He finished his inspection swiftly and pronounced her clean for the night.

After redressing, Hermione peered at Snape as subtly as she could manage, and thought she saw a smirk lingering on his face, but it quickly faded into his usual unreadable expression.

"Thank you, Professor," she mumbled with as much dignity she could muster in her embarrassed state and bolted for the door. She looked back at him before exiting, and he met her gaze with a vacant stare.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"N-nothing, Professor, sorry, I, erm…Good night!" she said hurriedly and rushed out of the room.

Hermione headed to the library in search of a reference book for her Ancient Runes essay, "Heiroglyphics: The World's Earliest Spells_"_. Walking through the dimly lit corridors, she tried to convince herself that Snape hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Surely he hadn't shown any indication, or commented on her behavior afterwards, but then again, this was Snape, and who ever knew what he was thinking?

Rejecting the idea that she may have just been aroused by her snarky, old Potions Master who had given them nothing but hell for the past five years, Hermione chalked her surprising behavior up to the fact that she hadn't been satisfactorily snogged since Victor Krum had left at the end of her fourth year. Although, he really hadn't gotten her going the way Professor…oh no, just stop right there, she yelled at herself internally. Besides it was a widely known fact that Snape harbored a deep resentment towards the Golden trio of Gryffindor and she was sure the feeling was mutual.

Glad to be back with her friends later in the common room, Hermione curled up in one of the oversized armchairs and joined in the conversation. Ron lay sprawled out on the rug in front of the fire, while Harry paced back and forth excitedly. He started in on one of his increasingly frequent rants concerning Draco Malfoy.

"I just know he's up to something, why else would he be ditching class and hanging around the seventh floor corridor every chance he's got? I mean, according to the Marauders, he's practically taken up residence there!"

"Uhh, don't take this the wrong way, mate, but don't you think you might be becoming a little bit…obsessed with this Malfoy business?" Ron said as mildly as he could.

"Ron's right, you know Harry. I can't imagine you spend enough time on your schoolwork as it is now, since you're always running off to the quidditch pitch – "

"Well I am the _captain_!" Harry sputtered indignantly.

"Nevertheless," she continued primly, "we're taking N.E.W.T level classes this year and I've heard it's _exceptionally_ difficult to pass those exams. Of course, I've already started revising for them; there's just so much material! I would advise you to stay on top of your classwork at the very least – it should be your first priority**. ** Besides, if Malfoy's missing class all the time, the teachers will deal with him."

"You two don't get it, do you?" Harry said, exasperatedly, "Malfoy's a Death Eater! Voldemort's obviously given him some sort of assignment, and I'm just taking a wild guess here, but I don't think it's to rack up as many detentions as possible for truancy!" he raged.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and a look of futility passed between them. There was no mollifying Harry when he was in one of his moods. Hermione carefully disengaged herself from the conversation, announcing that she was going to bed. Ron gave her a nasty look for leaving him to fend for himself.

"Sorry!" she mouthed behind Harry's back, before heading up the stairs to the Girl's Dormitory.

That night, Hermione's dreams were once again infiltrated by the mysterious dark man whose face seemed to be perpetually in the shados. She followed him through a smoky maze, vague shapes swirling around her, as she sprinted to catch up with him. He turned a corner and was gone. She stood alone, panting, and then suddenly he was behind her, his gloved hand encircling her neck. Instinctively, she did not struggle, but inclined her head to one side, allowing him to trace a finger down her throat. She trembled slightly as his hand, sheathed in cool leather, brushed delicately against her collarbone before withdrawing. She whipped around to face him, but he had vanished and left her with nothing but the silky afterthought of his touch.

* * *

Hermione and Ron chatted amicably on the way down to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning while Harry remained slightly touchy towards both of them, clearly still stuck on the episode from the previous night. He perked up a little when the topic of discussion turned to quidditch, momentarily forgetting Malfoy to engage Seamus Finnigan in a debate over whether or not the Holyhead Harpies would make it to the next World Cup.

Disinterested, Hermione let her eyes wander the Hall, idly taking in the sleepy faces of her classmates. Then her gaze settled on Snape. She instantly recalled her private fiasco the night before in the dungeons. As she continued to stare at him, she pictured how he might have looked standing behind her, a simper playing across his features at her foolishly adolescent behavior, his fingers in her hair, and grazing her neck ever so slightly…

"Oi! Hermione!" Ron said, waving his hand in front of her transfixed face.

"What! Oh, sorry," she said quickly, "I was just mentally going over my Arithmancy notes. We've got a test today."

"Right, well, we've got to get back to the tower so you can finish – er I mean – look over my Transfiguration homework!"

"Honestly, Ron, you'd think by now…" she trailed off as they left the Great Hall together.

Later that day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves in one of those infamous warzones of a Potions lesson. It looked like Snape had skipped the wrong side of the bed, and flat out woken up on the floor that morning as he docked everyone, including his own House, massive amounts of points for the most minor offenses. Sweeping around the classroom as they struggled to brew a ridiculously difficult potion, he would slash his wand and clear their cauldron if they so much as faltered for a second to consult their instructions again. As he had been doing periodically throughout the year to decrease Snape's suspicions, Harry wisely chose not to use the Halfblood Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion Making _for this particular lesson. While he may have been immune to the killing curse from Voldemort, he wasn't sure the deal was extended to guarantee protection from psychotic professors.

Hermione managed to stay off the chopping block, and when Snape had stalked away after pronouncing Harry and Ron "The Thickest Dunderheads I Have Ever Taught", she watched him glide silently about the room while continuing to stir her potion. There was an uncanny grace to his movements that proved very unsettling for most of the students. He had quite a powerful presence, yet he never had to speak in louder than a whisper to command their complete attention. Black suits him rather well, Hermione found herself thinking while observing the fabric of his stark, but imposing robes. He looks so dangerously potent sometimes; if he pushed me up against that wall over there…she stopped her train of thought abruptly before her mind could finish illustrating that scene.

"Oh Gods," she muttered out loud, horrified.

"What?" Harry asked, peering at Hermione over his cauldron.

"Nothing, nothing! I'm just getting frustrated by this bloody potion," she invented quickly.

"You think you're frustrated?" Ron interjected, "Snape hasn't even touched yours! Me 'n Harry've had ours cleared away five times already!"

"I suggest you up your count to six, Mr. Weasley," Snape said icily behind them, vanishing Ron's potion once again. Ron and Harry both jumped at Snape's unexpected appearance, but Hermione nearly rocketed out of her chair. Snape gave her a funny look before moving on to victimize another student.

Hermione watched him go, a strange knot forming in her stomach. She was still staring when he suddenly turned and looked her straight in the eye. Instantly, a powerful rush of exhilaration engulfed her. Nervously, she averted her eyes and started shredding her mugwort leaves with increased vigor.

"Is he gone?" she whispered urgently to Ron.

"What? Snape? Oh yeah, he's down there harassing Dean and Parvati," he answered.

"'Hermione, you alright?" Harry asked, concernedly.

"Of course I am! Really, don't worry," she said, smiling for emphasis.

Inside Hermione's mind, a silent battle was raging. She couldn't possibly be attracted to Snape. He was practically every student's sworn enemy. All of this nonsense was probably stemming from the evenings she was being forced to spend with him. She must be associating him with the anxiety and pain surrounding the werewolf incident. But then again, the thought of him touching her sent shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with either of those things.


	6. Chapter 6

___Chapter Six_

Hermione trudged down to the dungeons after dinner, not looking forward to embarrassing herself in front of Snape again. Thankfully, this would be the second to last time she would have to make the trek, and then she could get back to simply hating Snape for giving ridiculous assignments and doling out obnoxious essays: a much more normal way of life.

She paused on the stairs as a prickling sensation wound its way through the large gash bisecting her back. She remembered what Dumbledore had said about werewolf poison coursing through her veins and continued towards Snape's classroom a bit disconcerted.

She entered and saw him sitting at the desk grading—or, rather – massacring, judging by his violent quill strokes, some hapless second-year's essay.

"Good Evening, Professor" she said.

"Miss Granger," he said, obvious annoyance at her continued nightly appearances seeping into his voice. He jerked open the drawer containing the vial of antidote. Hermione began to disrobe but halted when she felt another odd tingle at the center of her back. She squeamishly recalled a particular Care of Magical Creatures lesson during her third year concerning a gruesome species of flesh-eating maggot that burrowed under its victim's skin and consumed them from the inside out .

"Sometime in the next century, if you please, Miss Granger," Snape drawled.

"You know, Sir, it wouldn't kill you to have a scrap of patience!" she snapped, without thinking. Snape raised his eyebrows, "Watch your tongue, Miss Granger, or you will find yourself having to explain to your Housemates how Gryffindor mysteriously lost 15 more points tonight," he said coolly.

"Yes, Professor," she said, resignedly, not in the mood to push her luck any further.

"You can mark my words, Granger, if the Headmaster had not asked me personally to attend to this task, you would not be here right now," he said cruelly.

"Oh, and I suppose you think _I'm_ enjoying this, then?" she yelled before she could stop herself, "Well, Sir, let me inform _you_ of something: If I had my way, then I wouldn't be here right now either!"

"Miss Granger, you are wasting my time even more so than usual tonight. Now, I suggest you remove that," he hissed, gesturing to her blouse, "or get out of my classroom and take your chances. I'm sure Potter would be glad to have a werewolf to run around with, just like his idiot father."

Glaring daggers at him, Hermione tugged off her shirt and stood waiting, silently fuming. Snape stepped closer to her and then she heard him mutter, "Prepare yourself".

"What?" Hermione asked, slightly alarmed. Snape didn't answer. Instead, he pocketed the vial of potion he had been holding, and pressed the tip of his wand lightly against her back, conjuring up another strange prickly feeling. She craned her head around to see what he was doing.

"Hold still," he barked.

"Sir, what are you –"

"_Abduco Infectum_!" he said, and she instantly felt as if barbed wire was being drawn out of her flesh into Snape's wand. She gasped and almost doubled over in pain. She was seeing stars, and distantly she could hear him yelling at her to keep still, but it was no use, her body had taken control and was twisting violently to get away from the source of the pain.

Snape knew that the Venom Extraction process would never work properly with the girl flailing all over the place, and seconds later the thin stream of purple liquid that had been rising up out of the wound at the center of her back snapped, and a large violet-colored pool remained under her skin. Cursing, he moved closer to her and slipped his arm around her waist and across her chest to her opposite shoulder, pulling her against him. He held her firmly and spoke the incantation again.

The spell started once more, and Hermione's body gave an involuntary jerk.

"Keep still," Snape said silkily into her ear. She suddenly found it easy to forget about the pain, she was so concentrated on her physical proximity to her professor. He was holding her flush against him, his arm wrapped around her tightly, and his body angled slightly so he could access the wound on her back. She had been right – he was very strong and she found it difficult to move, although she wasn't sure she wanted him to let her go.

Hermione cursed aloud as something that felt like a thorny bludger was wrenched from her back and then it was over. Snape released her and she swayed slightly on the spot. He uncorked the vial of Argentum Salvator and drew some into his wand.

"We will continue with the application of the antidote and that will be all for tonight," he said stiffly.

She mutely nodded her agreement and his wandtip began to trace the smarting skin on her back. She shuddered, not from the pain, but from her realization that Severus Snape was the mysterious, dark man from her dreams, for whose touch she shamefully ached. The more she questioned it, the more the dreams seemed to elucidate themselves until she could picture him quite clearly fulfilling her unconscionable desires.

His intimidating presence behind her provided the best form of temperance for her scorching thoughts she could have asked for. They spent the rest of the time in silence and after Hermione had dressed she turned to him to say goodnight.

"Professor," she began, and he raised an eyebrow inquiringly, his hair slightly tousled after the events of the evening, "Thank you. And good night."

He simply nodded, "Your last appointment is tomorrow night, 7:30. Now move along, I've got work to do."

Snape watched Hermione walk up the aisle and out the door, closing it softly behind herself. He had known he would have to perform the extraction eventually after seeing the telltale signs of purple liquid accumulating consistently in the same spot night after night. It hadn't quite gone as planned though, he thought, his eyes still lingering on the door after Hermione had gone.

Not in the mood to speak to anyone, Hermione collapsed into an armchair with the pretense of reading her Transfiguration textbook. Illuminated by the soft glow of the firelight, the words on the page kept swimming out of focus. She stared absentmindedly into the crackling flames and watched them as they lapped at the wood. Exhausted, she allowed her mind to wander and before she knew it she was back in Snape's arms. She imagined him stroking her waist, his breath on her neck, and she sighed pleasurably. A burning sensation erupted in Hermione's chest as he slid his hands down roughly over the contours of her body, resting them lightly on her hips. God I want him, a voice in her mind screamed.

Hermione clapped her book shut abruptly and made her way up to the Girl's Dormitory. She knew it was horribly wrong, but for some reason she couldn't shake him from her thoughts – tonight was going to be an interesting night.


	7. Chapter 7

___Chapter Seven_

Hermione stood at the mirror in the bathroom of her dormitory examining the scars on her back which were gradually fading. She had been free of any signs of werewolf venom for awhile now, thanks – she admitted it begrudgingly—to Snape's expertise.

Ever since their private appointments had ended, Hermione had been doing everything in her power to put her Potions Professor out of her mind. It simply would not do to have her thoughts wandering back to him when she should be paying attention in her classes. She purposefully avoided looking at him as much as possible and in Potions she concentrated strictly on what he dictated. As far as she could tell, he remained just as foul to her as to the rest of the students, excluding the Slytherins, of course. There had been a moment before class the day after Snape had performed the extraction of the werewolf venom in which she thought saw him watching her strangely, but she couldn't be sure.

Weeks passed and Hermione delighted in her mental triumph over the bizarre urges that had plagued her earlier. During the daytime, she was confident she had rid herself of him. However, she couldn't control the dreams that seemed to possess her sporadically at night. She took to brewing herself Dreamless Sleeping Drought in secret to prevent him from any further control of her subconscious.

Midterms were approaching and Hermione was more focused than ever, scribbling down notes furiously, as she sat in Potions class next to Harry and Ron. She looked up to the board to copy down a chart of the Boomslang snake's identifying characteristics, while Snape ended his lecture.

"Turn to chapter forty-three and begin reading. You will be quizzed on the material tomorrow," he said, before tapping the board with his wand to clear it.

Hermione followed the movement of his wand as he stowed it away in his robes. Her eyes traveled inadvertently up to his face and then it happened. He looked straight at her with a piercing stare that held her spellbound. Her heart gave a jump and she tensed up. She swallowed nervously as their eyes remained locked, and then he shifted his gaze abruptly. Flustered, Hermione flipped open her book to chapter forty-three and pretended to read avidly. She didn't look at him again for the rest of the class, and took full advantage of the proximity of their table to the door when it was over, flying from the room.

Hermione welcomed the excitement of the upcoming quidditch match against Slytherin, as it provided a distraction from her steadily mounting confusion regarding Snape. The morning of the big game, Harry and Ron were seriously engrossed in a conversation on strategy, when Lavender Brown came flitting over and sat down beside Ron.

"Hi Ron," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Uhh…hey" he said, looking slightly boggled.

"I just wanted to wish you luck today," she said sweetly.

"Right, thanks," Ron said, clearly still nervous. She smiled at him and then flounced away to rejoin her group of giggling friends.

Hermione had watched the whole exchange closely and now found herself scowling in Lavender's direction. Ron may have been oblivious to Lavender's obvious flirtation, but Hermione certainly wasn't. All of the sudden, she felt strangely territorial; after all they'd been through, Ron rightfully belonged to her – who did Lavender think she was, swooping in like that? Thankfully, all the boys had on their minds right now was the fast approaching quidditch game that would determine if they could look anyone from the Slytherin house in the face for the week following the match.

Ron played brilliantly due to Harry's little mind game involving the Felix Felicis at breakfast. Gryffindor thoroughly walloped Slytherin in the match and Hermione stepped into the common room amidst a wild celebration later that night. Someone had bewitched a set of speakers to blast The Weird Sisters new album and there were roaring Gryffindor lion banners strung up festively over every inch of the walls. Hermione was enjoying herself dancing with Harry and Neville, who had loosened up considerably after a few butterbeers. She looked around when she heard people start hooting and whistling and found Lavender Brown snogging Ron viciously in the center of the room. At first he looked completely taken off guard, but then, perhaps egged on by the crowd of cheering boys, he kissed her back passionately and they looked as if they might be trying to eat each other's faces off.

Hermione's mouth fell open and her lip curled in disgust. Not wanting to watch anymore, she weaved through the crowd and exited the room. She stomped down a set of stairs and sat at the bottom, in a markedly bad mood. She looked around when she heard a set of footsteps and saw Harry make his way down the stairs to sit down next to her.

"You alright, 'Mione?" he asked gently.

"I, well…no," she admitted.

"Is it Ron?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"How could he? I mean, _Lavender Brown_? Really?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yeah, who would've seen that coming," Harry laughed, but quickly stopped when he saw Hermione's annoyed expression.

"Does it bother you?" he asked.

"Of course it does!" she said, wondering how it didn't bother Harry, "One drunken snog and now she'll probably expect to become his girlfriend, and before you know it, they'll be spending every waking moment together, slobbering all over each other! It disgusts me."

"Hermione," Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "is all this maybe because _you_ have feelings for Ron?"

Hermione stared at him. She had always assumed that Ron would just be available for her; she had long suspected he fancied her, and now it annoyed her that he would dare to kiss another girl. Perhaps the contempt she was heaping on Lavender right now was actually jealousy?

"I-I'm not sure. I've never really considered it before," she said haltingly, "but I suppose that must be it, right?"

"Well, I would think you'd know if you did, wouldn't you?" Harry said, slightly bewildered. Hermione pondered this.

"Maybe I've just never noticed him in that way before and now that Lavender's got her tentacles all over him, I'm realizing it," she said, partly to continue the conversation and partly to convince herself that this was the correct explanation.

"You know, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but if it's any consolation, I know for a fact that Ron would prefer you over Lavender Brown any day," Harry said, a little guiltily. Hermione perked up at this compliment in disguise.

"You mean he fancies me?" she asked, wanting to confirm her suspicions.

"I can't believe you're the most brilliant witch in our class and you hadn't worked that much out for yourself," Harry joked.

She shoved him playfully and then they lapsed into silence for awhile, Harry no doubt racking his brains for an explanation to Malfoy's odd behavior and Hermione considering her feelings for Ron, a welcome diversion from the dark man who normally held her mind under siege. Ron was cute in an awkward, puppy-dog sort of way. And he was definitely within her league, not to mention her age-group. She could picture them going to balls together and having a good time, although his left-footedness might pose problems if they danced. Still, it would be exciting to have a real date to go into Hogsmeade with on one of those Valentine's Day couple weekends. They could go shopping for books together – well, no, actually he would probably have to trail behind her, since he had no interest in that kind of thing. But perhaps after, they might have lunch at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. It would be so charming – that is until the food came and Ron started wolfing it down in his usual frantic manner. And what would they talk about, if he was even inclined to such an activity between bites?

But surely none of his improprieties would matter if they were only focused on each other, as she had heard lovers tended to be. She tried to imagine them in an intimate setting together and came up with a rather horrifying picture of him forcing his tongue into her mouth in the middle of a common room full of gawking people. She visibly cringed at the thought. She tried to play the kiss again: it would have to be in a darker setting, and this time his lips would brush hers gently at first, massaging her mouth, until she hungrily moaned for more. Then he would deepen the kiss, forcefully pulling her in closer, and his long black hair would tickle her jaw...

Drat and Damnation! The last time she checked, Ron had been a red-head, and she seriously doubted he was capable of affecting her the way the dark-haired man in her mind had just done. With a perturbed sigh she admitted, in short, he was not Professor Snape.

Hermione gave Ron a wide berth after he started dating Lavender, she and Harry avoiding the subject whenever they talked. She didn't get on that well with Lavender anymore, as she blamed her for snatching Ron away from their trio every chance she got. Several times, Hermione considered starting something with Ron both to secure his attention again and to divert her own away from a certain professor, but deep down she knew that this wouldn't be fair to either of them. Instead she opted to wait until he came to his senses and hoped that their tightly knit group would reform on its own, as it had always done before.

Just to speed up the process, though, Hermione accepted Cormac McLaggen's invitation to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and social-climber extraordinaire, Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. She knew it was an immature move on her part, but her inner teenage girl was goading her on with vindictive delight.

Hermione and Ginny stood in the girl's dormitory scrutinizing each other carefully before they had to go meet their dates. Hermione pulled out a pretty silver pendant from her jewelry box and fastened it around Ginny's neck. She stepped back to observe the effect.

"Perfect!" she said.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said appreciatively, "By the way, you look really good tonight. That is _quite_ the neckline on your dress." Hermione grinned shyly. "You think it's too much?" she asked, her hand drifting unconsciously to her exposed chest, a little worried.

"Of course not! Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm sure Cormac will appreciate the gesture," Ginny said with a wink. Hermione wasn't sure she liked the thought of McLaggen pawing at her all night, but she glanced at the clock and saw that she had no time to change as they were supposed to have been down in the Common Room five minutes ago.

After Hermione had made sure Ron saw her all gussied up with McLaggen's arm about her waist, and noted satisfactorily the dumbfounded look on his face, the girls and their dates meandered down to Slughorn's rooms. They had been elaborately decorated for the occasion and Hermione barely recognized the room when they entered; the entire place was twinkling in silver and gold and there were gauzy scarves rippling down from the ceiling festively.

Hermione conversed awkwardly with her date, who kept sneaking what he thought were covert glances at her chest. Eventually she suggested they sit down, as her heels were starting to hurt. She soon regretted this decision, however, when Cormac took the opportunity to sidle up right next to her on the divan. He stretched an arm around her, leaned in close, and she stood up abruptly.

"I'm thirsty," she announced.

"Oh, uhh, I'll go get us some drinks, then," Cormac said and moved off to locate the punch bowl.

Hermione groaned and mentally berated herself for taking her need to reassert her control over Ron this far. At this point, she would rather watch him and Lavender going at it than have to spend the entire evening with Cormac, who had been getting grabbier by the minute.

Hermione took his momentary absence as an opportunity to evacuate the scene, disappearing temporarily behind a veil of scarves to plan an escape. Suddenly, Harry appeared next to her and she jumped.

"God, Harry, you scared me! I thought you were Cormac," she breathed. Harry chuckled.

"Night not going well?" he asked.

"He's just so foul, all he wants to do is regale me with tales of his quidditch heroism and ogle me like some kind of _animal_," she grumbled.

"Can't blame him, you look great tonight, 'Mione," Harry said, grinning. She shot him a malicious look.

"Right, sorry, I mean – he should definitely still have some class about these things, you're absolutely right," Harry amended quickly.

"Ugh, I never should have come here with him tonight!" she lamented, "And you know what else – his breath! Ugh, it positively _reeks_ of firewhisky. How crass can you get, showing up drunk to a staff member's Christmas party!"

"Wow, really? That was just a dumb move on his part. Alright, look, how about I go get Luna and we three leave unnoticed? I've got my cloak," he said.

"Oh Harry, you're wonderful! Yes, let's do that," Hermione said.

"I'll go get her, just wait here for a little and I'll be back," he assured her before disappearing again to find his date. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, but then her jaw dropped in surprise when McLaggen's head poked in through a set of curtains a foot away. He lumbered towards her, looking angry. She backed away from him guiltily, wondering if he had overheard part of her and Harry's conversation.

"So, thought you'd slip away from me for some fun with Potter, did you?" he said accusatorily.

"What? No—Harry and I are just friends," she tried to explain but he didn't seem to be listening.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" Cormac demanded, drawing nearer.

"N-no, of course not!" Hermione stammered.

"Good. Because tonight you're all mine," he murmured and lunged forward, planting his arms firmly against the wall on either side of Hermione's head, trapping her. A sickening fear began to spread through her and she tried to shrink away from him but he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed himself onto her greedily.

"Cormac, stop!" Hermione pleaded, but he wasn't listening. Her head was throbbing; she was instantly thrown back all those months ago to the werewolf attack as he smothered her. Her panic spiked and she felt for her wand. In her terrified fury, she practically screamed the spell she cast on him, producing a very powerful Stinging Hex. He looked down in shock at his scorched, rapidly swelling hands when suddenly he was seized roughly and thrown backwards. Professor Snape had burst into the curtained covey and was now standing between Hermione and a disoriented Cormac. The latter spun about furiously, prepared to challenge his assailant, but Hermione saw him surrender quickly under one of the most ferocious looks she had ever seen Snape give.

Still seeing red herself, Hermione dove at Cormac and smacked him hard across the face.

"You disgusting little prat!" she spat.

"That will be quite enough, Miss Granger!" Snape seethed, grabbing her roughly by the arm and yanking her away from her stunned date. Once the murderous look had left Hermione's eyes, Snape released his vice-like grip on her. She moved away from both of them, attempting to compose herself.

Just then Slughorn parted the curtains and stepped in. "What's all the commotion back here?" he asked worriedly.

"Mr. McLaggen and I were just discussing how he has bought himself two months worth of detention for improper conduct," Snape said coldly. Cormac opened his mouth in protest, "But Sir –"

"Perhaps _three_ months of scrubbing cauldrons would suit you better then? Wandlessly, of course. That should be no problem for you, McLaggen, seeing as how you are so fond of using your hands in your…endeavors," Snape intoned smoothly. Slughorn looked from Cormac to Hermione who was standing with her arms folded tightly across her chest, glaring daggers at Cormac.

"Mr. McLaggen, I think you had better come with me. You are no longer welcome at this party," Slughorn said severely. Cormac slunk away behind him without a backward glance. Snape was still glowering at his retreating back, and Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. He rounded on her.

"As for you, Miss Granger, you would do well not to encourage this sort of behavior," he said condescendingly.

She crossed her arms uncomfortably over her chest again, angry that he was insinuating she had asked for this. They glared at each other for a moment before he turned and swept from the tiny alcove, almost mowing Harry down as he stalked away.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Harry asked, putting his hand on her shoulder. Hermione felt as if she might be on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

"Cormac he—he was really drunk and tried to force himself on me…"

"What! Where is he now? I swear – " Harry cried violently

"Slughorn threw him out already. Please, don't make a scene. I just want to go back to the tower," she said in a shaky voice.

"Of course. Come on, we'll go together. I'll tell Luna what happened later – she'll understand," Harry said, taking her hand and leading her out of Slughorn's crowded rooms. Once back inside the comforting familiarity of the common room, Hermione told Harry how she had hexed Cormac and how Snape had burst in, given him a massive detention, and then proceeded to insult her virtue.

"Sounds like Snape had a good night," Harry joked, "But really, I'm so sorry you had such a rotten time."

Hermione leaned over and gave him a quick hug. They heard a shuffling noise and looked up to find Ron standing above them awkwardly.

"I, uh, heard what happened at the party Hermione," he said timidly, "Just wanted to, umm, come see if you were okay, and say, well, you know…ifheevertouchesyouagaini'llkillhim," he blurted quickly, looking embarrassedly around the room. Hermione regarded him for a moment then immediately tugged him down next to her on the couch. She put an arm affectionately around both Harry and Ron and they all three grinned at each other. Hermione relaxed; she was glad to finally have her other best friend back.

* * *

They passed the next couple of months harmoniously, and Ron was noticeably relieved when things ended with Lavender. Harry hinted a couple of times to Hermione that Ron was now a free agent, but she assured him that she was happiest simply remaining friends.

Despite her rekindled friendship with Ron and customary academic excellence, Hermione was still struggling to keep up normal appearances in Potions class. Although she tried her hardest to concentrate, her mind kept straying to her professor. Once Snape had interrupted one of her more private fantasies, and she had blushed scarlet for the next five minutes. She knew she had a problem, but she feared that admitting it in confidence to one of her friends would only exacerbate it.

In an attempt to compensate, Hermione endeavored to perform better in all of her other classes. She was en route to consult Professor McGonagall about a project one afternoon when Harry suddenly streaked past her covered in blood.

"Harry!" she called after him. Barely slowing up, he yelled over his shoulder, "Can't talk right now! I'll explain later!" before whipping around the corner and out of sight.

Hermione remained where she was, debating whether or not to follow him when Snape, looking positively livid, came striding swiftly down the corridor, robes billowing behind him, from the direction Harry had just come.

Hermione quickly put two and two together and did an abrupt about face in the middle of the hall.

"Not so fast, Miss Granger," Snape said sharply, drawing up next to her faster than she had expected.

"Yes, Professor?" she said, attempting to make her voice sound calm.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me as to where your dear friend, Mr. Potter, came about his copy of _Advanced Potions Making_?" Snape said slowly, his eyes boring into hers. Hermione swallowed nervously.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir," she lied.

"Oh, but I'm afraid you do," he said quietly, as a knowing smirk spread across his face.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but what's so special about a standard textbook anyway?" she invented wildly.

"You should understand that your foolish friend is meddling in affairs which do not concern him," he snarled, ignoring her question.

"Sir, I'm afraid I don't –" she faltered, before he cut her off.

"In his arrogance and stupidity, Potter almost killed someone with that little display back there," he spat. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh, God, I told him not to use those spells…" she stopped herself in shock as she realized her admittance. Snape looked at her dangerously.

"What was that, Miss Granger?" his voice taunting. She took a step backward and found herself against the unforgiving stone wall. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes penetrating, almost as if he was reading her mind.

Hermione's thoughts were coming sporadically now. _I_ _ought to keep my mouth shut or Harry will be in even bigger trouble_… _how could he have been careless enough to use that spell, I warned him about this…Oh God, I can't even think straight when he's this close to me_…_ Professor, please... just touch me – anywhere_…

She hadn't realized her eyes had slipped shut until Snape's harsh voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Miss Granger!" he had stepped back and was watching her warily; his hardened eyes and furiously knitted brow conveyed anger while his slightly dropped jaw seemed to express surprise. She gaped at him momentarily, then turned on her heel and fled.

Snape stared after Hermione as she practically flew down the hall without looking back. He did nothing to stop her; he was pre-occupied with the thoughts her mind had just revealed to him. He hadn't originally planned to use Legilimency on her, but he knew Potter would attempt some lame cover-up, and he had expected to easily extract the information he needed from the girl. Instead, he heard her begging him to touch her. Fortunately, her eyes had been closed, or she might have seen him hesitate before stepping backwards.

At the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, Snape turned swiftly, pushing all thoughts of Hermione Granger to the furthest corner of his mind as he had been doing all year. He scowled as Harry raced towards him. Harry skidded to a halt and thrust out his schoolbag. Not expecting to find his old Potions textbook, Snape went through all of the books anyway, just to give the impudent boy a hard time. Then he assigned him a hefty series of detention smack in the middle of his upcoming quidditch match, and stormed away, satisfied, leaving Harry red-faced and spluttering.

Hermione did not stop running until she had made it back to Gryffindor Tower. In the entrance hole, she leaned against the wall panting, attempting to catch her breath. She stood there for several minutes, her heart pounding frantically in her chest.

The door swung open, and Hermione jumped violently. Harry climbed in through the hole holding his schoolbag and they stared at each other for several seconds.

"What were you _thinking_?" Hermione shrieked.

"How was I supposed to know what the spell did?" Harry yelled back, "And for your information, Draco tried to _Crucio_ me!"

"None of this would have happened if you had just returned that stupid book!"

"Well it's gone now, so you can all relax," he said a little haughtily, "And Snape's given me a month's worth of detention as well. Right bloody smack in the middle of quidditch, so thanks, but I don't need your lectures right now."

He looked so miserable, her expression softened. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Hermione spoke.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," she said, sincerely, reaching out to touch his shirt where it was ripped and covered in blood, "Are you alright?"

Harry shrugged and looked at Hermione, feeling a bit guilty for his outburst. She took his arm and they walked into the common room together.

"Hermione, what exactly were _you_ doing in the entrance hall just then?" Harry asked her, suddenly remembering how she had been hiding out when he had arrived.

"Oh, umm, well I had been about to leave but then I remembered I'd left something and when I turned around to go back, you came in and startled me," she fumbled, making up the lamest excuse ever. Luckily, Harry was too preoccupied with the disastrous events of late to notice.


	8. Chapter 8

___Chapter Eight_

Hermione's nerves were positively shot following the incident in the 6th floor corridor. She continually berated herself for leaving her mind wide-open, and forgetting that Snape was a skilled Legilimens. Of course, he wasn't allowed to use the spell on students, but she wasn't about to call any extra attention to the infraction if she could help it. If anything, she hoped that Snape would keep the juicy tidbits she had let slip to himself and spare them both the embarrassment of having to relay the sordid details of her personal fantasy to some poor, blushing professor.

On a rational level, she was ashamed of entertaining such inappropriate and strictly forbidden impulses, but her anger flared when she remembered how Snape had trespassed upon her private thoughts to ascertain them, and under a rather flimsy pretense at that. He had no right to steal such intimate things from her, and he ought to be reprimanded _himself_ for the unsolicited violation. Assigning him a hefty part of the blame allowed her shredded dignity to recover enough that she could attempt to face the constant agony of attending Potions every week.

She sat in the back of the classroom with Harry and Ron and continued her avoidance tactics, which by now were well-engrained in her behavior. Incredulously, Snape was as callous as ever, and he betrayed nothing. Hermione began to wonder if perhaps he had not seen her thoughts as clearly as she believed she transmitted them. However discomfiting his behavior was for her, she found that her best defense was to play at that game as well. She sank into a state of emotional numbness in class and conducted herself in an automaton-like fashion around the room. If she had to look at _him_, she made sure to do it quickly and impersonally. In this feigned apathetic manner, she felt she was skirting some sort of sure disaster.

She tried not to let the situation weigh too heavily on her thoughts outside of Potions, and she was determined to remain herself with Harry and Ron. Sometimes, just being in each other's company and sharing a laugh over something foolish was enough to pull Harry back from his gloomy apprehensions, and vanish all thoughts of Snape from Hermione's mind – if only temporarily.

It was in one of these rare moods that the trio found themselves strolling through the open corridor that overlooked the Transfiguration courtyard. It was a beautiful, sunny day and there was a tangible sentiment of good cheer drifting around in the air.

"No, no you've got to _mean_ it Wagglesby! Come on then, put 'yer back into it – like this!" Ron quipped, flapping his arms in a spot-on impression of Professor Slughorn from their Advanced Combative Jinxing lecture earlier that day. Hermione struggled to suppress her smile, trying to maintain the impression that she was above making fun of a teacher, but her friends' laughter was infectious and she couldn't help but crack up at Ron's ridiculous accent and over-exaggerated wand waving.

A pleasant breeze wound its way into the corridor and rippled through Hermione's hair, coaxing a few tendrils from her loose braid so that they fell lithely around her face. In high spirits, Hermione's smile was genuine and it rested easily upon her features. It was with this serene countenance that she suddenly found herself looking up into the stormy eyes of Professor Snape, who had just swept around the corner.

With no time to mentally fortify herself against his presence, she could feel her face fall open as they stared at each other. All of her well-honed resolve crumbled instantly and she knew that if, at that moment, he were to attempt another foray into her mind, her thoughts would flow to him freely. He was looking at her so intensely, she almost believed that he _could_ hear her thoughts – let alone her heartbeat, which was thundering loudly in her chest.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she had been planning to say escaped her. She could have sworn she saw a flash of some unrecognizable sentiment in his eyes before they went blank and he averted his gaze.

He nodded at her curtly before distributing equally spiteful glares between Harry and Ron. She shuddered visibly as he side-stepped and whisked past her, leaving her rooted to the spot while Harry and Ron stared at her in confusion. A tense moment passed and then Ron broke the silence.

"What the bloody hell was that?" he demanded, looking from his friends to Snape's retreating back as he stalked away down the corridor. Hermione remained frozen for a few seconds and then she said, somewhat truthfully, "I have no idea."

"Hermione?" Harry said concernedly, "are you sure there isn't something going on? You can tell us anything, you know – we're your best friends."

Ha! Hermione scoffed mentally. How little value that statement held in her current situation. She most certainly could not confess her undeniably growing feelings for a man who happened to be the nastiest professor at Hogwarts, most likely a Death Eater, and, on the side: Harry's sworn enemy.

"I can't believe you two are making such a big deal over this," she said, calmly, "I mean, you've both received more than your fair shares of death stares from Snape, I shouldn't think it's anything out of the ordinary, really."

"Well yeah, but that just seemed a little more…I don't know…_weird_," Harry faltered, still not entirely convinced. Hermione put on her best perplexed expression and shrugged, hoping he would just let it go.

"Eh, whatever. Snape's a creepy bloke. That's certainly nothing new," Ron said.

Thank you, Ronald! Hermione cheered silently. They continued on their way, and she purposefully ignored the baffled glances Harry sent her way. She felt a little guilty withholding information from him, but when she thought about it, this wouldn't be the first time someone had refused to clue Harry in for his own supposed benefit.

* * *

The good weather they had been enjoying continued as Spring took full hold of Hogwarts. Though there was an undercurrent of unrest coursing through the Wizarding world on account of the continued Death Eater attacks, a fiercely optimistic mood survived within the burgeoning grounds of the school.

On her way back from the Owlery tower, Hermione paused in front of a window in the stairwell to watch the Gryffindor quidditch team's evening practice. She was up high enough that she could just make out Ginny's wild mane of red hair shining gloriously in the fiery wash of the sunset. Harry had done a good job captaining the team, she observed, as the robe-clad figures climbed and cut through the air, spiraling nimbly on their broomsticks while chucking the quaffle to each other with imperceptible speed.

Hermione had plans that evening to grab an early dinner with Neville and Luna, and so she continued down the dimly lit spiral stairs, trotting through the occasional patch of crimson light streaming in through the narrow windows.

She was mentally calculating how long it would take her to finish her Arithmancy problem set when she suddenly sensed that something wasn't right. She had an inexplicable, eerie feeling that she was being followed. She stopped walking and listened intently for any footsteps, but heard nothing save for her own slightly panicked breathing. Her stomach sank as she realized how empty this part of the castle usually was, and then a sickening thought crept into her mind: because of the spiral construction of the stairway, if someone was trailing her, she wouldn't be able to see them until the last moment…

But this was ridiculous; she was just psyching herself out. The goosebumps prickling her arms and the chill tingling at the back of her neck were simply the results of an overactive imagination. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then an unexpected hand clamped itself over her mouth before she had a chance to scream.

"_Imperio_!"

Hermione felt incredibly blank, as if she had lost all sense of purpose. She heard a voice, and vaguely registered that the speaker was standing behind her pinning her arms to her sides and holding a wand to her temple.

"You won't remember any of this. You will go about your business as usual. Now, continue down the stairs and do not look back."

Hermione's memory of the incident was already fading as she walked mechanically through the castle feeling strangely hollow. She was very eager to meet Neville and Luna for dinner for some reason and when she arrived at the Great Hall, she was relieved to find them waiting there for her.

"Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late, I…" Hermione fumbled for a moment. Why was she late again?

"Oh don't worry about it, the Humdingers kept us entertained while we waited," Luna said, in her usual breezy manner. Neville shrugged at Hermione and they went in to dinner.

Throughout the meal, Hermione's Arithmancy problem set kept dancing in her mind. She jumped up excitedly as soon as Neville and Luna had finished their food.

"You in a hurry or something, Hermione?" Neville asked her while disentangling himself from the bench.

"Oh, well yes, I suppose I am. I just really want to get started on my Arithmancy homework," she replied.

"I've always admired your dedication," Luna said earnestly.

They chose to exit the Hall at precisely the moment a group of sixth-year Slytherins came traipsing in, and it proved to be predictably bad timing. They were met with a chorus of "Look, it's Loony and Longbottom – a match made in heaven!" Neville whipped around boldly.

"Just shut it, will ya!" he yelled back. Hermione grabbed him by the elbow and glared into the jeering group of Slytherins, locking eyes with none other than Draco Malfoy. She thought she saw him mutter something under his breath as he held her gaze rivetingly. Then he looked away and addressed the group of Slytherins:

"Come on, let's go. They're not worth our time."

"Load of wankers," Neville mumbled as the Slytherins stalked past them. He and Luna started off in the direction of the towers, but Hermione remained in place.

"I think I'll take a walk on the grounds," she announced, because suddenly it seemed like the most necessary thing to do.

"Wait, I thought you had to do your Arithmancy assignment," Neville said, slightly confused. He had a point, Hermione knew, but this walk was undoubtedly more important.

"I just have to do this first. I had forgotten," she said, anxious to be on her way.

"Oh. Right, well, uhh, you want us to come with you, then?" he asked.

"No, no! That's fine," Hermione replied, scooting off towards one of the doors that led out of the castle.

"Okay? If you're sure? It is getting kind of dark," Neville said, giving her a funny look, while Luna, however, didn't seem to think Hermione's agenda was odd at all. Smiling reassuringly, Hermione turned away from them and slipped out the door, intent on obeying the instruction that rang in her head.

* * *

Down in the dungeons of the castle, Snape paced back and forth in his office. Once again, he found himself mentally wrestling with the great many problems on his mind. Looming largest of all was the headmaster's situation, in which Snape was yet again an unwilling participant. Attempting to reconcile himself with the role he was doomed to play in this twisted joke of a life was a pastime that consumed him and threatened to destroy the steely resolve he had spent a lifetime honing. Yes, he had agreed to Dumbledore's ludicrous request out of the unshakeable reverence and devotion he held for the old man– but why must it all fall on him? Where was _his_ salvation?

And then, of course, there was the Granger girl. Somehow, she had lodged herself in his mind and nothing he did could shake the image of her wide, brown eyes staring into his own, or the feel of her warm body molded against his, her bare skin under his wand. How had that particular thorn been embedded again? It had first cropped up with those wretched appointments back in the fall Dumbledore had been so insistent upon, and persistently wormed its way deeper into his conscience from there. Having only agreed to treat the girl's wounds on the headmaster's express orders, he wondered if perhaps it had been some sort of punishment in disguise, because really – throwing him into such a foreign situation, which had gradually developed alarmingly intimate undertones, and expecting him to remain as impassive as ever while dealing with the pretentious know-it-all who trembled so damn appealingly right in front of him. Dumbledore really did ask too much.

Snape was interrupted from his ruminations by a faint, yet chillingly distinct sound. He stood motionless and listened closely. The acoustics in the dungeons were such that any noise floating in from the grounds outside tended to be amplified by the cavernous, stone rooms, and the echoes rang in the air long after their source had quieted. The fine silence which Snape had been carefully monitoring was suddenly shattered by the sound of violent footsteps reverberating off the walls as they smacked the stone steps at odd intervals – whomever it was had taken the stairs two at a time – and approached his office with alarming speed. Snape eyed the door in anticipation and was momentarily surprised when Draco Malfoy burst into his office.

"Professor Snape," he rasped, "I've done something terrible – " Draco paused to catch his breath.

"What! What have you done?" Snape hissed. Draco swallowed and looked wildly towards the small window that was set high up in the back wall of the office. Snape stepped forward and grabbed him roughly by the collar.

"You will tell me now, Draco, what it is that has caused your obvious alarm," he commanded, his voice dangerously quiet.

"I-I imperiused that Mudblood Granger," Draco stammered, and Snape felt something constrict within him at the mention of Hermione's name. Draco continued, "a-and I made her walk outside…"

"When?" Snape barked. His mind was working quickly to catalog these details.

"After dinner? I-I don't know, maybe ten minutes ago? But it wasn't my fault – he made me do it! He said he'd find me and kill me instead if I didn't! And I've seen him do it before – even to children!" Draco had almost dissolved into hysterics, but Snape shook him hard.

"Who?" he growled. Draco paused a moment before answering, and it was in the resulting second of quiet that the same distinct sound Snape thought he had heard before wound its way into the dungeons once more. But this time there was no mistaking its origins. Draco's face froze in pure panic and Snape stiffened as the bloodcurdling tremolos of a werewolf howl rattled through the room.

"Fenrir Greyback," Draco whispered.

"Where did you direct her to go?" Snape said, choking back his urgency.

"T-to the Forbidden Forest. By the lake," he replied as if in a trance.

"Give me your wand, Mr. Malfoy," Snape demanded, and Draco handed it over without a question. Draco remained rooted to the spot, his lip quavering slightly as the grave implications of what he had done started to sink in. Before Snape's mounting fury caused him to hex the idiocy out of Draco, he shoved the boy roughly out of the way and lunged for the door.

"Go quickly and inform the headmaster of what has happened," he spat at Draco as he swept from the room, "Now!"

Snape threw open a door and emerged from the castle, bracing for a scene of carnage, but was greeted instead by an uncanny stillness that hung like fog in the night air. He set off immediately towards the lake. A balmy breeze blew in off the surface of the lake, which shimmered brilliantly in the light of the full moon, and chilled him to the bone. He scanned the phosphorescing grounds for any sign of the girl…or the wolf. What if he was too late? An icy hand clamped onto his heart and twisted cruelly. No, that was not an option. He forced the thought out of his mind and squinted harder into the distance. Goddamn her – and then he saw a slight movement amongst the shadows of the dark trees. He moved quietly and urgently towards it.

Drawing closer, intense relief flooded through him as he took in Hermione's intact and very much alive form. She was standing unnaturally still and her usual intelligent expression had vanished, replaced with a blank stare. Snape cautiously crept towards the girl, careful to remain within the shadowy cover the forest provided. He needed to get close enough to break the Imperius curse, for which purpose he had brought along Draco's wand. He was almost within spellcasting distance when she suddenly turned her head and appeared to look straight at him. A slight change flitted across her face for an instant, almost as if she recognized him. And then her expression slid into darkness as a menacing shadow appeared overhead and cloaked her entire body.

Snape stared incredulously at the colossal werewolf that slunk out of the woods behind Hermione and began to prowl towards her slowly. She remained riveted to the spot, powerless against the danger that was creeping up on her, preparing to strike. Snape whipped out his wand and fired a powerful stunning spell as the werewolf pounced on the girl and knocked her to the ground. The spell connected seconds later, blasting the shocked creature backwards off of her, and in the moment's confusion Snape forsook his cover and sprang in front of Hermione. It wasn't long before the werewolf was back on its feet and snarling in fury. It lunged at Snape, who slashed his wand and thought, "_Protego_!" producing a filmy screen against which the beast collided forcefully and ricocheted off of. Frenzied with bloodlust, the werewolf's yellow eyes gleamed intently as it redoubled for another attack.

Snape parried deftly with the creature as it continued to hurl itself at Hermione. The shielding spells were effective, but they weren't doing any damage. So great was the werewolf's thirst for the girl whose flesh it had been denied once before, it seemed prepared to keep up its attacks tirelessly until her protector collapsed from exhaustion.

However, Snape matched the werewolf's agility with cool precision, and he gradually drove the creature in a circle until it was backed up against the gnarled trees of the forest. Its paw caught on an exposed root, and it faltered for a critical, split second.

"_Incendio_!" Snape roared, and flames erupted from his wand at lightning speed, engulfing the werewolf. It bellowed and contorted in pain, a writhing mass of fur and claws immobilized in a column of fire. It crashed blindly into the trees trying to escape the scorching burns that were searing its hide.

Snape kept up the focused jet of fire spewing from his wand until the badly injured werewolf managed to limp out of range of the flames and drag its maimed body off into the forest, not stopping to look back once. He watched it go and stood panting from exertion, still shaking as he attempted to regain control over the raw fury that had been driving him. His wand hand remained tense as he slowly turned around to find Hermione crouched on the ground a few feet away, unscathed. Her vacant eyes followed his movements as he approached her.

Kneeling down, Snape swapped his wand for Draco's and pointed it at Hermione. Upon doing so, a heady sensation of power enveloped him. He had forgotten how tangible the firm connection between a wand and its imperiused victim was – how easily a body could be manipulated in any way the user desired, like a marionette. He paused for a moment, drinking in the feeling of having absolute control over Hermione, as she gazed blankly at him in perfect compliance.

But he had not spent years perfecting the mastery of his mind for nothing. The seductions of the Imperius curse were tempting and known to have been the downfall of many witches and wizards, but not his. He directed Draco's wand at Hermione once again.

"_Finite incantatum_," he said, watching her eyes for a sign of her regained consciousness. It wasn't long before their familiar spark returned and her face began to lose its ghostly pallor.

The pleasant fog in which Hermione had been mired began to lift. As her sentience came flooding back, an oppressive heaviness settled in her limbs. She struggled to stand up, but her body felt clumsy and foreign. She startled momentarily when a firm hand caught her around the arm and steadied her. She looked up to find Professor Snape scrutinizing her, and then, in a flash, the details of the past couple of hours came crashing back to her.

In a strange, out-of-body experience, she felt peculiarly removed from the events that careened around her like a carousel. Dinner with Neville and Luna swam by in blurry patches, and then she was reenacting her moonlight trek across the grounds with the forest floating in front of her. Suddenly, a crystal-clear image of a very familiar werewolf blared in her mind, and the fear which was strangely absent in the memory gripped her now in real life. But the beast couldn't hurt her; it couldn't touch her through the flames. All she could see now was white-hot, brilliant fire spiraling magnificently towards the werewolf, driving it back into the shadows. The flames, she realized, were streaming from a wand wielded by an imposing, dark figure…and then she could see it was Snape, his fierce expression illuminated by the blazing inferno he commanded skillfully. As she watched him, a sudden fire erupted deep within her own chest, and as she snapped back to reality, it was heightened by the realization that he was now standing right in front of her.

Snape expected Hermione to be momentarily confused as she surfaced from her trance. He observed a multitude of emotions crowd her face as she relived the events for which she had been physically, but not mentally present. He was, however, unprepared when her eyes then settled on him in a most disconcerting manner. They seemed to dance in the patch of moonlight that slid across her face. It was an expression that held no trace of the bossy, presumptuous child she had been when she had come to Hogwarts. It had not escaped his notice that she had matured into an attractive – no, he admitted it – beautiful young woman.

Suddenly he was disgusted with himself for his blatant abandonment of mental control. For Merlin's Sake! She was, and would firmly remain, nothing but his student. He regarded her with a wary frown while attempting to discern her intention. She stared back at him steadily, and a hint of daring flickered behind that curious expression. He should be backing away now; all of the sudden, she was much too close. He should be reprimanding her for eying him like that, in an entirely inappropriate fashion. But he could only watch, hypnotized, as she gracefully tilted her face towards his. And then she was kissing him.

She was intoxicating. Her mouth was soft and pliant against his, begging him to part her lips and possess her. For a few tantalizing seconds, he almost caved in to his desire, but then he pushed her away roughly. Taken completely aback, he couldn't bring himself to look at her and he stood for a moment with his back to her, collecting himself. Presently, he turned to her with practiced composure and saw, when she raised her eyes slowly to meet his, that she looked almost as shocked as he felt.

"Sir, I'm so sorry…I don't know what possessed me," she said in a small voice. He stared at her, picturing a series of erotic reveries running through her foggy mind and driving her to action. She averted her eyes nervously.

"I think it would be best, Miss Granger," he began severely, "if this incident were to remain strictly between you and I." She nodded her silent agreement.

He continued slowly, "Now, I must insist that you accompany me immediately back to the castle. Perhaps a stay in the hospital wing tonight is merited, given your rather _unpredictable _condition." He emphasized those last words maybe a bit too harshly, for Hermione looked stung. He had no mind for propriety at the moment, though, when his own feelings were so tumultuously raging. They started off back across the grounds in silence.

Hermione cringed as she glanced at Snape striding slightly ahead of her. His words rang clearly in her head and the unpleasant concreteness of the situation was beginning to sink in. Since when did Hermione Granger, the biggest control freak at Hogwarts, act blindly on impulse —and a completely inacceptable impulse at that? Her face burned in humiliation and she was glad he was avoiding looking at her, although his cold demeanor was hardly easing her nerves.

He accompanied her to the hospital wing and she stood a little way apart from him as he spoke briefly with Madam Pomfrey. Before exiting, he paused in the door and turned stiffly towards Hermione. She was surprised to find his normally self-possessed expression now subtly unkempt with what appeared to be distress. She frowned in response to his agitation, and when a familiar warmth swelled inside her once more, she bit her lip in an attempt to quell those unwelcome flames.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," Snape said obligatorily before leaving. He stalked away down the hall while that parting image of Hermione replayed itself in his mind. She was standing before him clutching a starchy hospital pillow to her chest, and fixing him with those confused, angry eyes. Where had he seen them before? But, of course, he already knew the answer to that painful question. He was instantly transported back all those years ago to when he had stood outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room waiting anxiously for Lily Evans, whom he had selfishly offended earlier that day. He had pleaded with her desperately for forgiveness, but she would not be moved. All it had taken was a word. Just one unforgiveable word, her beautiful, mournful eyes dismantling him, and then she was lost to him forever. And forever he would be atoning for that day.

And now here was Hermione Granger interrupting his personal penance; there was something unsettling about her that forced him to make these uninvited comparisons to the crimson-haired Gryffindor he had known all those years ago. He resented the young witch passionately, just then, for the control she had surreptitiously established over his thoughts, which had once belonged solely to him. She could not have chosen a more inopportune moment to set her cruel snare. The gravity of his pivotal involvement in Dumbledore's ultimate design weighed on him constantly and this personal failure was inexcusable. How could he have allowed a mere, insignificant girl to secure so great a command over his conscience and plague him so?

He stopped suddenly and threw one hand violently against the wall, burying his face in the other. A powerful shudder wracked his body as his mind silently imploded. He stood like that, unmoving, until he was sufficiently resolved to continue on his original route to Dumbledore's office.


	9. Author's Note

Hello all. So here's the deal: as I am somewhat of an impetuous writer, and I want to provide readers with the most cohesive and accurate plot possible, I am going back and making some minor, but important, amendments to earlier chapters. I apologize for the inconvenience but please stay with me and hopefully it will make for a better story in the end. Oh and as an extra incentive, Chapter Nine will be coming very soon :)


	10. Chapter 9

___Chapter Nine_

Upon arriving in the headmaster's office, Snape found that Draco Malfoy had preceded him and was now perched agitatedly in one of the stiff-backed chairs facing Dumbledore, who stood behind the desk.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, acknowledging his entrance, "Mr. Malfoy has just brought me some most distressing news concerning Miss Granger – horribly reminiscent of a particular night several months ago, I'm sure you've not forgotten…" He looked at Snape entreatingly from behind his half-moon spectacles and said, "I hope you are coming to us with a favorable report?" Draco tensed visibly when Snape paused before responding. His reaction gave Snape a surprising degree of satisfaction, although he concealed this perfectly.

"Miss Granger is unharmed, though considering the severity of her situation," Snape's eyes flicked swiftly in Draco's direction, "I would say that she is very lucky to be alive." Draco's confident demeanor seemed to recover vigorously at the news that there was to be no murder on his conscience tonight.

"I am afraid our suspicions of Fenrir Greyback's involvement were correct, Headmaster. We met tonight under most unfortunate circumstances, and I am afraid he is, at this moment, rather…indisposed. You will find him in the Forbidden forest, if he has not yet quit the premises completely," Snape said dryly.

"And what has been done for Miss Granger?" Dumbledore prompted.

"She has been retrieved from the grounds and escorted to the Hospital Wing for the night. I thought it best that precautions were taken against any potential psychological damage she may have sustained," Snape replied. He had been expecting this inquiry and didn't miss a beat in his delivery, though his thoughts on the subject were still in somewhat of an uproar.

"This is all very well done indeed, Severus!" Dumbledore beamed at him, "I am sure Miss Granger, as well as myself, is overwhelmingly grateful to you for your swift and heroic actions tonight."

Snape made a slight bow, but otherwise, his expression remained unchanged. The chance of Miss Granger heartily bestowing her gratitude upon him, especially after what had just transpired between them, seemed highly improbable. He was sure that he would not be able to accept any such sentiments properly in any case; the mention of heroism had always soured him.

"It gives me great satisfaction to hear that Miss Granger is safe and recovering, but now we must question why she was ever in such peril to begin with," Dumbledore said gravely.

Snape was well-aware of Fenrir Greyback's unofficial involvement with Voldemort's Death Eaters, and as such, he doubted that Draco had meditated this plot on his own. For his part, Draco said nothing and Snape carefully scanned his face for any hidden implications written there. Draco shot him a quick pleading glare before resuming his bout of silence. Snape recognized his reluctance to disclose any information while Dumbledore was present and he mentally resolved that they would discuss the matter further in private.

"Sir," Snape then spoke aloud, "perhaps Miss Granger simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In both instances, she was foolish enough to be walking outside, after dark, and under a full moon, I might add. As for this evening's attack, she was alone, making her a perfect target – especially for Greyback, who, as you know, has a preference for preying upon young women."

"Yes, perhaps," Dumbledore mused, while strolling over to the window, "Though it is a strange coincidence that Miss Granger should be so unfortunate as to meet this particular werewolf twice."

"Indeed it is, Sir," Snape replied, with an admonitory look at Draco, who was starting to squirm in his chair as they danced around the subject of his involvement.

"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Malfoy, I had quite forgotten you were here – and now look at the time! I certainly do appreciate your interest in your classmates' well-being; surely Professor Snape can escort you back to your common room so as to avoid any bothersome disputes over curfew," Dumbledore said amiably. Snape nodded his agreement and Draco jumped from his chair and moved swiftly toward the door.

"You may wait outside, Mr. Malfoy. I will accompany you shortly," Snape said, and Draco exited the room.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, drawing closer to him, "I trust that you will inform me if you learn anything further on the matter," he said knowingly, glancing after Draco.  
"Of course, Sir," Snape said, and then added, "Mr. Malfoy has already informed me of his involvement in tonight's episode as you've no doubt gleaned, although how thorough this involvement was I've yet to uncover."

"However little regard he holds for Miss Granger, he is no murderer, Severus, and you know that," Dumbledore said carefully. Snape cringed at the blatant double entendre embedded in Dumbledore's words. He turned to the old man fitfully, but then checked himself.

"Do you take pleasure in paining me with reminders of the cruel task which I have been so unjustly prevailed upon to perform? Believe me, Sir, I would rather give my own miserable life before taking yours!"

"Severus, I have no doubt as to your devotion to me, and that is precisely why I chose you. You must summon your courage, for I fear the hour is quickly approaching when our world shall dissolve into a chaos darker than any it has ever known, and I entrust the helm of our plan to you. I cannot pretend to know the future, but as to your own life, it is far too valuable a thing to be given up! I see an ever-increasing promise in it yet," Dumbledore said archly.

Snape scowled at him. Sometimes it was so dreadfully vexing: this serenity with which Dumbledore faced his own impending death, and the reservoir of mystery he seemed to keep sequestered away from even his closest confidant, dispensing it little by little so as to whet the appetite, but never fully enough to satiate it.

Dumbledore would say no more on the matter and after bidding him a terse good night, Snape took leave of him in a high state of agitation. He found Draco slouching against the wall a little way down the hall. Snape motioned for him to follow and he did so in a sulky silence.

Presently, they found themselves in Snape's office just as they had been earlier that evening, although it might as well have been a different day entirely, they both appeared so markedly changed. Draco dropped casually into a chair and adopted a haughty demeanor that signaled that he surely believed himself to be beyond reproach. Snape was once again coolly in control, and without the image of Miss Granger pressing quite so urgently on his mind he was resolved to unearth the motives of the insolent teenager seated before him.

"Mr. Malfoy, you really ought to be more careful," Snape began, "I would not advise drawing too much attention to yourself given the nature of the task which the Dark Lord has assigned to you."

Draco started at this remark and he glared hatefully at Snape. "Thank you, _Sir_, but you're wasting your time giving me advice. I am perfectly aware of the secrecy of my mission," he sneered, and continued, "It certainly wasn't my original intention to feed the Mudblood to Greyback, although now that I think about it, we'd of all been better off without her."

Snape ignored his false display of bravado and the smirk that accompanied it. "You also ought to consider checking the filth that comes streaming out of your mouth," Snape drawled, referring to Draco's derogatory name for Hermione, "It is rather unbecoming." The boy's pale face colored for a moment upon being reprimanded. Then his lip curled rudely.

"People of _their kind_ should be reminded of their inferiority and the privilege we Pureblood families allow them in simply attending the same institution. Surely, _you_ feel the same way?" he spat, in a triumphant regurgitation of his father's views. Snape was hardly listening though; he was too busy mentally kicking himself for letting slip his bias against the word, when he had managed to keep it concealed for so long.

"I am simply advocating caution when we cannot be sure who may be listening. One can never be too careful," he answered, his face once again the picture of indifference.

He pressed Draco further, "Regardless of your original intention, your actions tonight will undoubtedly have some consequences which we must now work to limit. You must tell me exactly how this came about if I am to be of any service to you. And believe me, Mr. Malfoy, it would be extremely prudent for you to have me on your side."

He saw Draco's face cloud as his thoughts turned no doubt to his allotted duty. "I don't need your help," he clipped. This was the response he had been giving all year, and Snape's patience, already worn paper-thin by the trials of this particularly taxing night, was ready to snap.

"Apparently you do, or you would not have been careless enough to cooperate with someone like Fenrir Greyback and plan a senseless attack that surely would have jeopardized your position greatly had I not stopped him tonight," Snape shot back.

Draco glared daggers at him, but would say no more on the subject.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You are dismissed. I trust you can find your own way back to your common room," Snape said, with particular venom. Draco nodded at him mockingly and then stalked from the office.

Snape sat down tiredly at his desk and absentmindedly grabbed a quill, which he began to manipulate about the fingers on one hand while he occupied his mind with Draco's dilemma, just one of the many plotlines he was privy to. He knew that the boy was undoubtedly feeling the strain of his task, as evidenced by his uncharacteristically haggard appearance. He kept up an impudent front whenever Snape offered him assistance or advice, but the toll was obvious in his gaunt, prematurely lined face and the hunched manner in which he now walked, with his clothes hanging off his increasingly thin frame. Snape was more alike Draco than the boy would ever know, but the secretive nature of their respective burdens did not lend itself easily to commiseration.

Exhausted from such grave thoughts, Snape got up from his desk and went to his personal cabinet. He rummaged through it until he found the tiny bottle labeled "Dreamless Sleeping Draught," and poured himself the appropriate dosage before retiring to his quarters for the night.

* * *

Several hours later, and several floors above the dungeons, Hermione opened her eyes blearily in the Hospital Wing. She was greeted by a dull headache, which spiked obnoxiously as she remembered how she had once again landed herself in the spacious infirmary. With circumstances almost identical to the incident several months ago, she was certain her luck wouldn't hold should there be a third encounter with a deranged, over-sized canine. It was obvious to her that she was being targeted by Greyback, but for some reason, she couldn't remember how she had even gotten outside last night. Could she have been foolish enough to take a moonlit stroll by the Forbidden Forest, and completely alone? Further still, there was the mystery of how the werewolf had known when and where to find her. If it hadn't been for Snape's also inexplicably good timing…she shuddered involuntarily while contemplating that unpalatable thought.

She twisted around in bed and buried her face violently in the pillow, attempting to drive all the details of the previous night from her memory. Her heartbeat thudded rhythmically into her ear, and listening to its constant tempo, she entered into a state of calm oblivion. Soon, however, Madam Pomfrey's muffled voice came floating into her makeshift cocoon, inquiring after her health, and proposing a small breakfast.

Hermione emerged to inform the kindly nurse that she had a troublesome headache and that she was afraid breakfast wouldn't sit well at the moment. After Madam Pomfrey had gone to get her some tonic for the pain, Hermione suddenly recalled the events that unfolded in the aftermath of the attack. _Merlin's Beard_. Had she really kissed her professor last night? Yes, she thought, as a fresh wave of nausea hit her, she most certainly had done so – and not just any professor, either. She had made advances towards _Snape_, whose rigid reaction now bothered her more than the werewolf.

Madam Pomfrey returned with a small cupful of clear liquid. "Drink this, dear, and your head should clear up in a few minutes," she instructed her. If only it were that simple, Hermione thought miserably as she downed the tonic. "I think we had better keep you here for today. You never know with the Imperius curse; certain people recover almost immediately and others are still muddled in the head for several weeks. Of course it also depends on how long one is under the curse. From what I was told, you should mend quickly enough –"

"Excuse me, Madam, but did you say the Imperius curse?" Hermione interrupted, clearly alarmed.

"Yes, Miss Granger, and it is quite natural that you do not remember ever being placed under the curse, but Professor Snape assured me that it did indeed occur sometime yesterday evening, but by whom he was unaware. That being said, I would like to monitor your progress for a bit, if you don't mind missing your classes for today," Madam Pomfrey said. Hermione fumbled mentally for her class schedule: Arithmancy and Transfiguration that morning…Ancient Runes after lunch…and then Double Potions with Snape. Well that simplified things.

"Of course I wouldn't! There's nothing really important going on in anything today, anyway. And I do feel a bit fuzzy in the head…" she mumbled, in an attempt to sound convincingly boggled. "There's no rush, dear; you just relax and I'll have you back to health in no time," Madam Pomfrey assured her gently before returning to her office.

And Hermione did relax, for about ten seconds, until she remembered that today was Friday and she had a Potions essay due at the beginning of class. But not even turning in an essay was worth having to sit through two full hours in that classroom, Hermione decided, rather uncharacteristically. The document in question had been finished, in her usual timely manner, three days ago and she resolved that she would deal with handing it in on Saturday, which seemed nice and far away for the time being. Perhaps Snape would be in a better mood by then as well and less likely to dock her points for tardiness. Yes, perhaps – right after Voldemort started handing out candy to children.

Hermione's uneventful day spent in the Hospital Wing flew by faster than she would have liked and Saturday morning arrived all too soon. Madam Pomfrey pronounced her free to go with a clean bill of health, crediting Hermione's speedy recovery to her pre-existing mental acuity and some good old-fashioned rest. Hermione trudged back to the Gryffindor dormitory and started the water for a shower. Back in the sixth-year girls' room, Parvati had just rolled out of bed and when she caught sight of Hermione, she greeted her with a friendly smile. "Hermione! How are you feeling? We all heard about the curse. It's really dreadful; I can't believe anyone here would do something like that!" Parvati exclaimed.

"Wow, word sure travels fast around this school. Really, though – I'm fine. I was just a bit foggy in the head afterwards," Hermione assured her as she slipped behind her dressing screen and stepped out of the hospital pajamas she was still wearing. She plucked her bathrobe from its hook and slipped it on before grabbing a towel and a change of clothes. In a few minutes, she was standing in the shower and was once again alone with her thoughts. The warm water slid soothingly over her body and she fancied staying in that private, steamy world until all the trouble outside had blown over. But she hurried herself along, regardless, because she knew that her essay wasn't going to deliver itself.

She wondered what would pass between herself and Snape when she knocked on his office door. The promise of a massive, unreasonable deduction in points she took as a given, but she found herself more concerned with the possibility that he would spurn her completely now on account of her weighty transgression. She ought to go prepared with some excuse and pray that he wouldn't see through it completely. Perhaps if she could convince him that she had hallucinated for a moment, thinking he was someone else, then all hope might not be lost…there she stopped her train of thought abruptly and mentally shook herself. Now she had completely abandoned all rational thought: here she was, brainstorming ludicrous means to salvage her already non-existent rapport with the very professor she was trying desperately to expel from her mind. No, if he was willing to completely forget that it had ever happened and continue to actively ignore her, she would readily play along.

In her pre-occupation, several minutes had managed to slip away unnoticed, but soon she was jolted unceremoniously out of her thoughts by a jet of cold water issuing from the temperamental shower head. She hopped out quickly and flitted back into the room to throw on some clothes. Essay in hand, she bounded out the door and began her descent to the dungeons.

Upon passing through the empty Potions classroom, Hermione was reminded of the awkward evenings spent there earlier in the year, and a fresh batch of nerves settled in the pit of her stomach. She meandered slowly over to the closed door of Snape's office, attempting to delay the dreaded knock that would announce her arrival. She paused at the sound of a chair being pushed back within the office, screeching as it chafed against the rough stone floor. Footsteps soon followed and she backed up a couple paces to avoid an awkward standoff on the threshold.

When the door did open it was not Snape, but Harry who walked out of the office. After a moment's confusion, she remembered his weekly detentions with Snape following the _Sectumsempra_ incident. Judging by his bleary-eyed presentation, it had been a particularly draining session. He brightened instantly, however, upon recognizing Hermione.

"Oh hey – what brings _you_ down to these parts? Fancied a nice stroll through the dungeons?" he spoke in hushed sarcasm, as he had left the door wide open. Hermione's eyes darted nervously towards the office interior, but Harry was conveniently blocking most of the view.

"My essay," she said quietly, holding up the neat roll of parchment, "I wasn't in class yesterday to hand it in."

"Are you sure you're well enough to be walking around? You look a little pale," Harry said, eying her concernedly. She forced a laugh.

"Harry, you're always giving me that look! I'm fine, I assure you."

"I'm just checking. You know, I think you've racked up more stays in the Hospital Wing this year than I have!" Harry chuckled softly. He stepped to the right very slightly, but it was enough to restore her line of sight into the office, and she glimpsed Snape sitting at his desk. She refused to look directly at him, although her acute awareness of his presence was now making her antsy.

"Listen, I should probably get this over with as soon as possible," she said, indicating her essay, "but I'll see you back in the Common Room, alright?"

"Actually, I'm meeting someone now," Harry said, unable to hide the grin that was twitching at the corners of his mouth. Hermione read his expression instantly and perked up, momentarily forgetting her pressing task.

"Oh really?" She teased Harry coyly, "And would this 'meeting' be considered a _date_?" Harry's smile only widened and Hermione felt her own mood lift vicariously through her friend's happiness.

"Well, you had better clean your shirt up then! Look at all this dust," she said, moving closer to him to brush the powdery streak off his chest. He waited for her to pronounce his appearance satisfactory, and beamed at her warmly before striding out of the classroom to meet his not-so-secret love interest. A smile had crept onto Hermione's face as she watched him go, but it quickly vanished when she glanced back towards Snape's office and caught his frigid stare directed at the space where Harry had been standing. A second later, he looked down abruptly to whatever document on the desk had been occupying him. She jumped a little when he spoke.

"Well, Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure of your intrusion this morning?" His voice was cold with sarcasm. Hermione knew enough to realize that this was the closest thing to an invitation that she was likely to receive, and so she walked into his office with false confidence, and began her carefully rehearsed speech.

"Good morning, Professor. I have my essay on the 'Uses of Valerian in Mortality Potions' with me. I realize it was due yesterday, but seeing as how I have been confined to the Hospital Wing – "

"You need not bore me with your senseless prattle," he interrupted her, "Leave it on my desk." She opened her mouth to deliver the rebuttal she had prepared for when he refused to accept her work late, but as his words caught up with her comprehension, her well-formulated plan hit a snag. She spluttered for a moment while processing his unexpected response.

"Sir?" she said cautiously, not putting it past him to nonchalantly light her paper on fire once she had set it down. He still had not looked up from the text he was reading.

"Are you so incapable that you cannot follow a simple instruction?" he returned smoothly, his eyes still roving across the page. Hermione began to wonder whether he was really as engrossed in the material as he appeared, or if he was avoiding looking at her on account of what had passed between them two nights ago. She was hesitant, though, to flatter herself and assume that his mind was occupied with the same event hers seemed to be fixated upon. Summoning her nerve, she chanced an attempt at an explanation for her behavior.

"Professor, I, uhh, wanted to take this opportunity to correct any misunderstandings that may now exist as a result of my…actions …two nights ago. You see, I'm afraid I was terribly confused after being under the Imperius curse – in fact, even now, I can barely remember any of the events surrounding that evening…"

She stopped rambling when she saw that his eyes had stopped their progress across the page. Finally, he raised his gaze to meet hers. Looking her straight on, he said coldly, "I can assure you, any and all events which occurred over the course of the specified evening were insignificant enough that they have now been as good as forgotten."

In spite of this being precisely the response Hermione had been looking for, she found that she could not keep Snape's cool gaze. She suddenly had to lower her own eyes to hide the evidence of the sting his words had produced; for such a soft blow it had been deftly struck, and with enough silent force that some nameless emotion was knocked loose inside her, clunking to the pit of her stomach and rattling around violently.

"I see," she said heavily, after a noticeable pause, "Well, Sir, thank you for accepting my essay, and I apologize for the intrusion. Enjoy the rest of your day." She slipped her roll of parchment onto the corner of his desk and forced herself to walk out of his office at a normal pace. Once she was out of the dungeons, however, she allowed her gait to catch up with her emotions and she tore across the Entrance Hall, feeling utterly absurd. Exiting the castle via one of the many side doors, she set out across the grounds in search of a spot of respite.

It was a glorious, sunny day and, as such, many students were lounging on the lawn, slinging Fanged Frisbees back and forth to each other, and cavorting about in general – all of it contributing to a picturesque scene of leisure that only made Hermione's distemper worsen. Upon finding an unoccupied tree near the lake, she flung herself down in the shade beneath it and began to violently pluck blades of grass while she re-evaluated the situation.

Although Snape had said nothing definitive, she took his cold assurance that her actions were insignificant and already forgotten as a clear rejection – one that smarted much more than it ought to. As she forced herself to take a more objective view on the matter, the mixture of pain and humiliation that comprised her current emotional state now began to lean heavily toward the latter. She had no place nursing an infantile schoolgirl crush on perhaps the most intolerable man she had ever met while there was likely a war brewing outside the Hogwarts microcosm. Besides, she reminded herself yet again, it would be extremely foolish of her to trust _Snape_, for the subject of his true allegiance was often and widely contested.

In fact, she was quite sure now that she would be perfectly content if she never had to have another conversation with him as long as she lived. Invigorated by the concept of a clear direction along which to mold her thoughts, she could already feel the shame he had instilled in her beginning to ferment into an undercurrent of hostility. She stood up resolvedly and brushed off the filings of grass that clung stubbornly to her jeans. She was smart enough to know a pointless investigation when she saw one, and now she was almost certain Severus Snape represented exactly that; she begrudgingly admitted that he may just be one of the few mysteries she would never solve and, as good sense would dictate, she would waste no more time on such a futile pursuit.

**Chapter Ten is coming soon, and I know I have a bit of a shoddy track record with the word "soon" but I'm semi-serious this time! Please, please, please review and let me know what you guys think and you can feel free to hound me if I don't get the next chapter up soon, as guilt is one of my most effective motivators :)**


	11. Chapter 10

___Chapter Ten_

Severus Snape ascended the stairs to the Headmaster's office with bitter thoughts, dominated at the moment by his loathing of the month of June. The adolescent miscreants he taught were even more intolerable in their idle blather now that the end of term was plainly in sight, although he had a feeling his final exam would wipe the indolent smiles off their faces. Yes, he had always detested June, but this one, he reminded himself, was bound to be the worst yet. While the foolish whelps ran around in jolly oblivion, blissfully ignorant to the calamity which was poised to grip their beloved school in what he feared would be the very near future, he could only torturously await the inevitable day.

Upon arriving at the top of the spiral stairs, he raised a hand to rap on the door, but stalled its motion when he perceived the hushed intonations of a private conversation issuing from the office. He trained his hearing on the voices, attempting to distinguish their identities.

"I must insist you ask me no further questions." Judging by the silvery quality of the voice and the refusal to dispend information, the first speaker was assuredly Dumbledore.

"But what is the meaning of all this secrecy Albus? Oh, you really are the most stubborn…_incorrigible_...Alright, alright – if you insist, then I must trust your judgment. I admit, it has never failed me in the past," replied his companion, whose lilting, clipped tones Snape assigned with confidence to Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you Minerva." _Bingo._

"Now that we are agreed," Dumbledore continued, "there is something I would like to entrust to you." Here the conversation paused, assumedly as the item in question was presented to McGonagall. And then –

"What shall I do with this?" her confused reply came floating through the door into Snape's probing ear.

"Nothing," Dumbledore said, matter-of-factly. "For the time being, that is. However, should anything happen to me – now, now Minerva, please do not be alarmed. Remember these are very unpredictable times we live in. I repeat, _should_ anything happen to me, I would like you to deliver that to one of your students."

"Which…student?"

"Hermione Granger. I have a feeling she will find it very…enlightening." At the mention of that name, the image of the troublesome Gryffindor that was constantly fixed in Snape's brain roiled to the forefront of all mental activity. His curiosity was instantly piqued.

"I could have guessed it would be one of those three," McGonagall chuckled softly.

"They do seem to crop up in the middle of everything that goes on around here, don't they?" Dumbledore agreed. Here the conversation seemed to taper off.

"Well if that is all, then I'll be on my way," McGonagall said and Snape heard her footsteps approach the door. He straightened up and moved swiftly away, but not before he heard her say, "Oh, and Albus? Please do take care of yourself. For both of our sakes."

As a personal rule, Snape was decidedly against mindless gossip and was hardly ever prone to idle speculation on the personal lives and fickle relationships of his students, but just then, he could have sworn he detected a certain note of tenderness in McGonagall's parting address that perhaps spoke to yet another one of Dumbledore's hoard of secrets that he was likely to never find out. Quickly, he smoothed the confused furrow in his brow as the door swung open and admitted a very obviously preoccupied Professor McGonagall onto the landing.

"Severus!" her hand flew to her chest, "I didn't see you there…"

"I apologize for causing any alarm, Minerva. It was most unintentional," he replied stiffly and scanned her person for evidence of the item Dumbledore had bestowed upon her. Dissatisfied with his findings, he stood back to let her pass. When she had swept past him and disappeared down the stairs, Snape entered the Headmaster's office cautiously. He found Dumbledore's gaze already trained in his direction, and there seemed to be a heavy look about his wizened face.

"Sir, you sent for me?" Snape said. The old wizard's eyes settled on his Potions Master, and the bemused expression returned to him.

"Yes, thank you for coming Severus. Tell me, do you prefer peppermint or toffee?"

Snape stared at him dubiously, but Dumbledore's twinkling eyes were insistent.

"You can hardly expect me to have any palate for sweets at a time like this!" he protested exasperatedly, "What are you on about?"

"You'll find that it is a tradition amongst every Hogwarts headmaster to keep a signature confection handy," he said, popping a lemon drop in his mouth, "One that you may feel inclined to continue when you assume the post." Snape's visage clouded and he looked away angrily.

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently, "As you are aware, I did not call you here today to talk of trifling matters. My final hour is drawing rather near, I should think." He inspected his blackened hand absentmindedly as he continued, "As such, I have almost completed the necessary preparations that will take effect after my death."

At the mention of 'necessary preparations' Snape's mind wandered back to the conversation he had overheard between Dumbledore and McGonagall, and he wondered what Hermione Granger could possibly have to do with any of Dumbledore's plans. At this point, he reasoned, it was probably better not to ask.

Dumbledore himself now came towards Snape and when he stood but a few feet from the younger man, he addressed him seriously.

"I need your word – promise me that you will be the one to carry out the task we have discussed."

All of Snape's misgivings and anguished emotions surged to the surface at Dumbledore's quiet plea. He looked into the great wizard's magnificently blue eyes and the unfaltering trust he saw there moved him greater than any words. Here was the man who had never given up on him when all others reviled him, forgiven him all of his egregious sins, for which he had not yet forgiven himself, and given him a job, a home, and a second chance.

"I will, Sir. You have my word," Snape said softly. His face remained stoic, but Dumbledore heard the poignancy in his voice. He laid a hand paternally on Snape's shoulder.

"Thank you, Severus."

Snape made no reply and after a moment of silence, he turned to go. "Good day, Headmaster," he said curtly, before disappearing out the door.

Dumbledore listened as the last of Snape's footsteps faded on the stairs. Then he gave a bitonal whistle (a charming little trick he had picked up on holiday in Ireland some great many years ago) and held out his arm for his phoenix, Fawkes, to alight on. The beautiful, ruby-colored bird nibbled on Dumbledore's robes affectionately.

"Ah, Fawkes, my old friend. If only we all had the pleasure of rising from our own ashes," Dumbledore laughed while stroking the phoenix's sleek feathers.

"But I do think that should get to be dreadfully tiresome after some time. After all, even the busiest scene needs a change of cast every now and then." Fawkes blinked at his master knowingly.

"After I have moved on from this world, I have a job for you too, my friend." The bird cocked his head intelligently, awaiting instruction.**  
**

"Look after Severus for me. While I have done all I can, I fear there will be many trials he has yet to face which I cannot anticipate. The man has been punishing himself long enough, and before it is all over, I should very much desire for him to see the rewards of all his sacrifices. Despite what he may believe, I have a peculiar inkling that his chapter is far from complete."

**Well there you go: a relatively speedy update. Yeah, sorry not much happens in this chapter, but it will be important along the way, I assure you! And a fresh batch of secrets for people to guess at - how wonderful! Or how annoying...in which case I apologize and offer my condolence in the form of a promise that, unlike Dumbledore, I will actually tell you everything...eventually ; )**


	12. Chapter 11

___Chapter Eleven_

Several days later, the late evening sunset found Hermione lounging with Ginny and Ron in the Gryffindor common room. The two siblings were engaged in a fierce game of Wizard's Chess while Hermione read her Ancient Runes textbook by the firelight; both activities proceeding in relative silence, occasionally punctuated by the loud crack accompanying the chess pieces' brutal attacks on each other.

Suddenly, Harry burst through the entrance hole and sprinted past them, heading up the stairs to the dormitories.

"Oi! Harry!" Ron yelled after him, jumping to his feet and upsetting the chessboard. Harry reappeared moments later with his Invisibility Cloak tucked securely under his arm.

"I don't have much time," he panted, "I've gotten the memory from Slughorn and now Dumbledore's asked me to come with him to…well to find something –"

"To find what?" Hermione asked.

"I'll explain later," Harry cut across her, glancing towards Ginny whom he couldn't mention the potential Horcrux in front of.

"Listen, while we're gone, there might be an attack on Hogwarts. Malfoy– whatever he's been up to – I think he's done it. Divide the rest of the Felix Felicis amongst yourselves (here he withdrew the vial of potion from his pocket and handed it to Hermione), get anyone who might be able to help, and keep an eye on the seventh floor corridor. And Snape. Someone ought to keep a watch on him too."

He paused for a second while a look of intense concentration overtook his features, racking his brains to see if he had missed anything.

"Did you get all that?" he asked a second later. They all nodded quickly, biting back their curiosity on account of the obvious gravity of the situation. Harry turned to leave, but Ginny caught his hand. "Harry, you had better come back in one piece," she said solemnly. He took her other hand and drew her close. Ron looked down at the floor, suddenly engrossed in the pattern of the carpet.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be with Dumbledore, remember?" Harry said. Ginny nodded for his sake, although she hardly seemed convinced. Harry moved away from her towards the exit and then turned back one last time. "Please, all of you – be careful. I'll be back as soon I can," he said soberly before he disappeared out the portrait hole.

There was a moment's pause following Harry's exit during which none of them moved. Then Ginny suddenly rushed to the stairs leading to the dormitories and bounded up them without a word. Hermione and Ron looked at each other in confusion. She returned waving around one of the coins that they had used the previous year to communicate with the members of Dumbledore's Army. Hermione caught on immediately. "Brilliant thinking, Ginny!" she exclaimed. She received the coin from her friend and pressed her wand to its surface. She spoke the incantation, tailoring it to give their current location in Gryffindor tower, and the coin began to glow and pulse in her hand, signaling that the transmission had gone through successfully.

"Now what?" Ron asked.

"Now we wait," Hermione answered him. "Hopefully some of the DA will get the message. If not, then we will have to proceed accordingly. Just the three of us."

"In the meantime, we ought to find that map of Harry's: the one that shows the location of everyone in the castle," Ginny volunteered.

"The Marauder's Map! I know where that is," Ron shouted and took his turn zooming up the stairs to the dormitories. When he had returned, and splayed the blank parchment out on a table, Ginny pointed her wand at it and recited, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Instantly, dark lines forming the beginnings of a map began to flood the yellow parchment. The first detail Hermione noticed was in the form of two dots labeled "Neville Longbottom" and "Luna Lovegood" rapidly approaching Gryffindor Tower. "Look! It's Neville and Luna; they're coming!" she pointed excitedly at the map. Indeed, seconds later the real Neville and Luna burst into the common room. "We got your message!" Neville shouted, waving his coin around triumphantly. Luna's face glowed with excitement as she produced her glowing coin as well.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Hermione spoke in a raised voice, commanding the attention of the four people gathered in the room. "We've just received word from Harry that there is likely to be an attempted attack on Hogwarts tonight. He gave us very specific instructions: we are to monitor the seventh floor corridor, specifically the area surrounding the Room of Requirement, and – " a slight disquiet gnawed at her insides, but she pressed on, "and Professor Snape's office."

Hermione had absolutely no desire to be apprehended by Snape that night, and she immediately suggested to Ginny and Ron that they three take the seventh floor corridor. Neville and Luna readily agreed to stake out Snape's quarters.

"You take the Marauder's Map," Hermione said, addressing Neville and Luna decidedly, "It will be more useful since you'll be further away from everything that's going on in the main floors of the school. Besides, it doesn't even work on the Room of Requirement."

She shoved a hand nervously into her pocket and then felt the small bottle of Felix Felicis she had stored there.

"Harry also left us something else," she said with a smirk, withdrawing the vial and displaying it to the two newcomers.

They all conjured up small, shot-sized glasses and Hermione poured roughly equal portions of the shimmery, gold liquid into each. "May luck be with us all," Hermione said, holding up her glass as if to toast to their success. The others mirrored her gesture before tipping their cups to their lips and downing the potion.

"Right, everyone got your wands and wits about you?" Ginny asked sharply. The five of them looked round at each other with nervous, yet determined smiles.

"Alright, then…let's go!"

**I know this was kind of short but you can expect a longer chapter to follow and since I had this sort of lying around I thought I'd update. As always: thoughts, comments, misgivings, musings...they're all welcome and I'd love to hear from you :)**


	13. Chapter 12

___Chapter Twelve_

They all trooped out of the portrait hole where Hermione, Ginny, and Ron bid farewell to Neville and Luna and continued on to the seventh floor corridor. The place was deserted when they arrived. Ginny and Ron fanned out with their wands drawn to search either end of the hallway and Hermione approached the wall where the door to the Room of Requirement had a habit of appearing. She paced back in forth in front of it, as Harry had taught them all to do when they needed to gain entry to the room. _I need to know what secrets you are concealing_, she thought.

Apparently the room did not agree with her on that matter, because no door appeared. She stopped walking and put an ear up to the wall. She shuddered at the feel of the cool stone on her skin, but that was it; she heard nothing save for Ron and Ginny's footsteps approaching her from behind. She straightened up and looked at them, shaking her head.

"No luck," she whispered.

"Same for us," Ron answered her quietly.

With nothing else to do, they began to pace the corridor again, two at a time, in a cyclical fashion, while the other stood guard at the approximate location of the door to the Room of Requirement. They passed a seemingly endless amount of time in this manner, and Hermione had just doubled back from one end of the hallway when she saw Ginny suddenly shoot up from where she had been sitting against the wall and jump backwards, her wand drawn. Ron had seen her unexpected movement as well, and they both raced in the youngest Weasley's direction.

Hermione skidded to a halt when the door that had materialized in the wall right where Ginny had been sitting began to creak open. She saw Draco Malfoy step out into the hallway holding what appeared to be a gnarled hand anchored to a plaque. He startled when he saw them, but no sooner had they registered the dark shapes amassed behind him than the entire hall suddenly went pitch black.

Hermione blanched as an unfamiliar cloak brushed against her legs and she heard the swish of several more begin to move away brisky down the hall. She considered attempting a spell, but then realized that she would be just as likely to hit one of her friends as any of the intruders.

"Hermione! Ginny!" Ron yelled.

"_Lumos maxima_!"Ginny's spell rang out in the darkness, but it did nothing. Hermione moved in the direction from which the sound had come and bumped into a body that flinched and cried out in Ginny's voice.

"Ginny! It's me – Hermione!" she hissed, feeling for her friend's hand.

"Oh, sorry! Where's Ron?" came Ginny's muffled reply.

"I'm over here!" they heard Ron shout from a little further down the hall. Linked together, Hermione and Ginny ran blindly towards his voice.

"Where are you guys?" Ron's voice sounded again, directly in front of them. Hermione reached out a hand and it landed on a scratchy sweater that could belong to none other than Ron Weasley.

"Right in front of you," she replied and grabbed his hand as well.

"Are we the only ones in the corridor?" Ginny asked quickly.

"I reckon so. I heard the lot of them move off down the hall that way, towards the stairs," Ron said, and added, "What is this stuff anyway?"

"Really Ron? You can't recognize your own brothers' product?" Ginny scoffed, "It's Peruvian Instant Darkness powder!"

"But then how could they know where they were going? I still can't see a thing!" Ron sputtered. Hermione thought for a moment and then blurted out excitedly, "Of course! Did you see that thing Malfoy was holding? It was a Hand of Glory – I read about them once in _Gordian's Encyclopedia of the Grizzly and the Gruesome_ – they give light, but only to the user. Malfoy must have been using it to lead the way."

"You didn't happen to catch a glimpse of who he had with him, did you?" Ron asked nervously.

"I'm almost certain they were Death Eaters," Ginny said.

"I recognized the masks before Malfoy threw the powder. Come on! We have to go after them!" She yanked them down the hall and onto the stairs, where their vision returned.

"Ginny, wait!" Hermione cried. "We don't even know how many of them there are, and there's only three of us. We should alert the Order members first."

"Good idea, Hermione, you go and do that. Ron and I will follow Malfoy and his lot. No – listen – they've already gotten a head start on us, and they're bound to arrive at wherever they're headed sooner with every second we stand here arguing," Ginny snipped.

Hermione bit her lip as her brain worked furiously. "Oh…alright! Just don't do anything rash! I'll be back as soon as I can!" she called behind her as she pounded down the stairs.

* * *

Snape roamed his office during yet another sleepless night. He stalked over to a low shelf on which he had set up four small cauldrons, each atop a low flame. Having just started the last one, he was pleased to discover that it had begun to bubble softly. However, the concoction in the next cauldron over was raging temperamentally and from its metallic depths there came a sudden spurting of a hefty, opaque globule which liberated itself from the pool below it, burst into the air, and spattered all over the jar of pickled salamander tails perched on the shelf above it. Snape clamped a lid sternly on the pot and swished his wand quickly to vanish the offending blob which was now attempting to eat its way through the glass. When the lid began to jump a little he fixed it with a scathing glare and all movement ceased instantly.

Moving down the line, he casually picked up the Essence of Murlap he had measured out earlier that evening, and added it to the fuchsia-colored potion sitting demurely at the end of the shelf. He animated a stirring rod and set it to work slicing through the gently frothing liquid in even, centripetal strokes. In another week he would add the powdered Graphorn, the next step in an incredibly lengthy brewing procedure.

He had purposefully chosen to brew four extremely fastidious and protracted potions, if for no purpose but to distract his mind with the methodical, exacting steps the proper preparation required.

His ritual was interrupted however, by a series of swift, urgent knocks at the door. He jerked it open and Flitwick, the tiny Charms professor fell into the room. "Death Eaters!" he squeaked, slightly out of breath, "In the castle – a fight has broken out below the Astronomy tower! The Order is attempting to contain them but the students, Severus – " He broke off abruptly, and dropped to the floor at Snape's mild, but unexpected stunning spell.

"And so it ends tonight," Snape said to himself, in a barely audible voice. Without a second thought, he donned his cloak and stolid expression, and swept out of the room. Upon finding a startled pair of sixth-years skulking outside his office, he tactfully implored them to see to Professor Flitwick, as he had been overcome with shock and passed out. They foolishly obeyed and he continued on his way to the upper floors of the castle.

He met no one until he came to the eighth floor corridor and found himself amidst a chaotic warzone. Death Eater and Order of the Phoenix fighters alike were darting about casting and dodging curses, jinxes, and all matters of destructive spells. Casting around into the fray, his hackles rose instantly when he caught sight of Fenrir Greyback, in human form this time, mauling some unfortunate Order member. He surreptitiously flicked his wand at Greyback, sending the man's bulky body spiraling into the air.

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Draco slip through the skirmish, leap over Greyback's victim, whom he now recognized to be a badly-wounded Bill Weasley, and bound up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. He made to follow him but was forced to whip around and block an errant spell that was careening towards him. Snape looked about wildly for its source and saw Rowle, a huge, blond dolt of a Death Eater, roaring hysterically as he shot powerful blasts out of his wand in every direction. The Order members that had crowded around him were having little success subduing his maniacal spellcasting as he careened about like some unhinged merry-go-round of death. Someone shrieked as a huge chunk of the ceiling was blasted loose and fell with a sickening crunch on top of a body.

Snape suddenly registered that not all of the combatants were adults. The younger Weasleys were also engaged in the battle, each struggling to hold their own against much more skilled Death Eater opponents. Right in front of him, Ginny Weasley was parrying with Gibbon, while attempting to bob and weave out of range of his curses. Snape saw Gibbon wind up to use the Cruciatus on her, and he swiftly muttered "_Confundus!_" Gibbon stopped for a second, his face screwed up in confusion, and then he crumpled to the ground, hit in the back by one of Rowle's renegade Killing Curses. Whoops.

Through the thick coat of dust that was suspended in the air, Snape saw a small group of Death Eaters detach themselves from the fray and make a break for the stairs that led to the Astronomy Tower. Several Order members immediately gave chase, but there appeared to be some invisible barricade in place at the entrance to the stairway and they were flung backwards upon contact.

Snape seized his chance and surged through the commotion, passing through the barrier seamlessly. Away from the noise and rabble of the battle raging below, he mounted the steps of the darkened tower quietly. Upon gaining the landing, he paused and listened. A few untidy strands of ebony hair that had fallen in his face began to stir in the mild breeze that blew in over the parapets and through the cracks in the door.

"Draco, do it now!" he heard a man's voice command.

It was time. Snape burst onto the top of the tower and found several Death Eaters assembled anxiously behind Draco Malfoy. Even from several feet away, Snape could see the blond boy's arm trembling as he held his wand pointed towards Dumbledore, who was slumped against the battlements facing the group of would-be murderers. But Snape would not give them the satisfaction. This was his job, and his alone.

"Severus…please…" Dumbledore pleaded softly. Snape stepped forward and pushed Draco aside. He raised his wand deliberately and pointed it at the great wizard. Their eyes locked and Dumbledore nodded almost imperceptibly.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Even as the jet of green light issued from his wandtip, he never looked away from those brilliant blue eyes. Only after Dumbledore's body had arched gracefully over the edge of the ramparts and plummeted out of sight did Snape recover his faculties. He grabbed Draco roughly by the collar and forced him down the stairs in front of himself. They exited the tower stairwell to find the battle carrying on as they had left it, although the floor had become slicker with pooled blood.

Snape steered Draco through the bedlam before they could get bogged down. The benefits of being a pseudo-double-agent, Snape thought morbidly to himself as Death Eaters and Order members alike allowed him to pass through. The lot following behind him were not so fortunate, however, and were delayed as an increasing number of Order Members swarmed them aggressively.

Snape and Draco continued swiftly on ahead of the others. The corridor took a sharp turn to the left and as they rounded the corner, Snape's heart nearly lurched out of his throat when he caught sight of Hermione Granger engaged in a vicious duel with the notoriously lethal Bellatrix Lestrange. The younger witch miraculously managed to stay one step ahead of the unforgiveable curses being hurled at her as her adversary's deranged cackle filled the air.

"Dance for me, pretty girl! _Crucio_! Oh come on, love – I only want to play!" Bellatrix howled in delight.

"Bellatrix!" Snape said sharply, "It's over. Take Draco and go. I'll deal with this one." This news seemed to enrapture Bellatrix even more than torturing Hermione did, and as she whipped around to face him, an ever-widening, maniacal smile illuminated her sinister features. She looked from Snape to Hermione with an evil grin.

"Please – enjoy yourself, Severus," she snickered, gesturing lewdly to the girl, "Careful not to throw your back out though – she's a feisty one!" Snape struggled to bight back a snarl as Bellatrix flitted around Hermione and stroked her wand teasingly across the girl's throat.

"Come, Drakie-poo, darling – we must celebrate!" she cried gleefully as she grabbed her nephew's arm and skipped off down the corridor, Draco flopping along behind her like a ragdoll.

Snape focused his attention back on Hermione, who was panting slightly, and staring at him in open-mouthed disbelief. "_You_…you're with them? But I thought…How could you?" she shrieked at him and he flinched internally.

"And to think, all this time – I _trusted_ you," she continued bitterly.

"Then you are a fool to trust so readily, Miss Granger," came his icy reply. She colored furiously and raised her wand against him.

"Forgive me, _Professor_," she spat contemptuously before attempting to curse him. He felt the formidable strength that her rage had lent to her stunning spell as it slammed into his shield charm. He deflected it deftly and it ricocheted down the hall, barely missing the open door of an empty classroom.

Behind him, he could hear the noise of the battle growing louder as the combatants moved towards where they were standing. Suddenly a bolt of green light shot past Hermione, narrowly missing her body, instead burying itself in the wall in an explosion of flying rubble and sparks. Rowle, that idiot, was going to hit_ himself _ if he didn't stop shooting off Killing Curses, Snape fumed.

The other Death Eaters would pass this way any second now, he knew. He looked swiftly from the freshly-bored hole in the wall behind Hermione to the girl herself. Her face was valiantly composed, although its defiance faltered for a split second when he caught her gaze. Heavy footsteps sounded behind them.

"They went this way!" Snape heard Amycus yell, and he acted quickly. He was across the hall in one step and Hermione barely had time to attempt a scream before he caught her around the waist and cast a Silencing charm on her. She struggled violently against him, but he held her firmly and wrestled her arms behind her back. He hauled her into the empty classroom and released her, stumbling into the center of the room before he himself withdrew swiftly into the hall. Using some rapid magic, he drew the door shut, and locked it with an Impenetrable charm, which he set to dissolve in ten minutes. That was all the time he would need.

He heard Hermione mutely railing against the door, but it did not give. Satisfied, he turned around just as the fighting spilled into the corridor and someone's poorly aimed curse connected with the floor right in front of him, singing the hem of his cloak.

"It's over! Time to go!" he yelled above the uproar. The remaining Death Eaters began to disentangle themselves from the fight and they took off at a swift clip, still firing spells as they retreated. Snape could hear Bellatrix's wild shrieks several floors below them, echoing throughout the cavernous center of the castle.

"Ding Dong, Dumbly's dead and Snape's the one who done it!" she chanted and his insides burned furiously. Grim-faced, he led the Death Eaters out of the castle by the fastest route possible. He did not pause once as they approached the massive double doors of the Entrance Hall and it was only until he was stepping over the threshold and out onto the dark lawn that he comprehended he was leaving the only sanctuary he had ever known…as a murderer.

**Enjoy - Ah we're almost to the end of HBP! Let me know what you guys think :)**


	14. Chapter 13

___Chapter Thirteen_

Hermione hurled spell after spell at the stubborn door but to no avail. There was no use trying to shout for help, as he had thought of that too, she remembered agitatedly. She contemplated the window, but seeing as she was on one of the highest floors of the castle and without a broomstick, that possibility was quickly ruled out as well. Perhaps Snape had meant to keep her locked up until one of his Death Eater cronies could be instructed to retrieve her and finish her off, but then simply abandoned the scheme along with the battle...

Her throat clenched when she thought of what might have become of her friends in the DA and the Order of the Phoenix. At this point, the Death Eaters had undoubtedly achieved their goal and fled, with Malfoy and Snape among them. Snape…that rotten, heartless _traitor_. How she ever could have envisioned herself feeling anything beyond disgust for him was utterly beyond her now.

"Damn him!" she screamed silently, throwing herself one last time at the rigid door. She collapsed painfully beside it with an inaudible cry of despair. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her face in her arms, feeling, for once in her life, completely useless. She began to wonder if she would be stuck in this godforsaken classroom until the morning when suddenly the door clicked softly and swung open of its own accord. She scrambled to her feet and shot into the corridor before it decided to shut itself again.

She looked around and found herself completely alone. She proceeded into the main hallway and there found the remnants of the battle strewn on the ground around her. She picked her way carefully over the chunks of the castle's framework that had been blasted loose and finally came to the stairs. She descended warily, keeping an eye out for any signs of human life. She had made it down to the fifth floor when she heard a group of footsteps approaching her. She froze and drew her wand, ready to cast a nonverbal spell should she encounter any stray Death Eaters. However, the voice that called out her name was friendly.

"Hermione! It's us!" it said, and moments later she was met with the sight of Neville and Luna, both a little bloodied, but otherwise intact. She was so relieved to see some friendly faces, she hugged them both furiously before disentangling herself.

"We were a bit worried when you didn't show up with the others after the battle," Luna told her, "And that's when Neville had the brilliant idea to check the Marauder's Map." She beamed at him and he blushed slightly.

"It was nothing, really. We saw your dot in a classroom on the eighth floor and we were on our way up there when it started moving again" Neville said. She opened her mouth to explain, but then remembered she could not speak. She pointed to her mouth and made a flapping motion with her hand while shaking her head.

"Oh, you've swallowed a Snorkelaps?" Luna asked concernedly. Luckily Neville caught her intended drift.

"Silencing charm?"

Hermione nodded emphatically. "Okay one second," Neville said and pointed his wand towards her throat, "_Finite Incantatum_!"

"Thanks, Neville. Now, what the hell is going on?" Hermione yelled and then lowered her voice, having not expected it to come out quite so loudly.

"Everyone's at the Hospital Wing. Come on, I'll explain along the way," Neville replied. They set off on a direct path to the Infirmary.

"Who's everyone?" Hermione asked quickly.

"With you now, that means everyone from the DA and the Order of the Phoenix. Well," he paused agitatedly, "everyone except Harry. Nobody's seen him yet. Ginny's gone to look – there's apparently some sort of commotion at the entrance to the school."

Swallowing her fear for the time being, Hermione pressed Neville for further details on the events of the night.

"Me and Luna were down in the dungeons guarding Snape's office," he began, "And then Flitwick came running down the stairs shouting something about how Hogwarts had been breached…"

"He's usually quite calm, you know. We knew something must be terribly wrong to cause him such distress," Luna added, before Neville resumed his narration.

"He went into Snape's office and then Snape himself ran out a minute later and when he saw us he told us that Flitwick had collapsed. So we went to check on him, and sure enough he was out cold on the floor – "

"I'll bet Snape knocked him out…used a stunning spell…poisoned him, or something," Hermione said bitterly, "_He's_ the one who locked me in that classroom."

"What! But Flitwick was saying that the Order requested– "

"Snape doesn't give a damn about the Order," Hermione spat, "He was with the Death Eaters. I heard him leading them away from the battle." At this, Neville and Luna looked at each other in dawning horror.

"There's nothing you could have done," Hermione said gravely, "and you were probably wise to listen to him – he might've knocked you out too if you hadn't."

They continued on in stunned silence. Hermione could hear a crowd gathering in the belly of the school several floors below them, but their path to the hospital wing took them away from all of the confused noise. They reached their destination soon enough and entered quietly. Hermione stopped short at the sight of a horribly disfigured man lying in one of the hospital beds, surrounded by Ron, Tonks, and Lupin.

"Oh Sweet Merlin…is that _Bill_?" she breathed, looking instinctively in Ron's direction.

"Yeah…it appears Greyback got to him too," Ron said gruffly. Tonks put an arm comfortingly around his shoulder as he stared fixedly at his brother's mangled face resting upon the bloodied pillow.

"He'll be alright," Madam Pomfrey said as she rushed by the newcomers with a fresh cloth. "Just a little scratched up around the face," she said in an attempt to encourage optimism. Hermione's instantly recalled her own experiences with the aforementioned werewolf and she was about to suggest they summon Snape when she remembered, grimacing, why that was most decidedly no longer an option.

The party lapsed into an agitated silence, but it was suddenly broken when Ginny burst into the room leading a clearly distraught Harry.

"Harry!" they all cried out in unison, but something in both his and Ginny's eyes warded away any further celebratory forms of welcome. Hermione watched him intently as he looked around at the collection of anxious faces with a horribly pained expression occupying his own. When asked if he was alright he only nodded his head despondently.

"What happened to Bill? Is he okay?" he said finally.

"Greyback," Ginny said and moved closer to him to take his hand.

"Is there nothing you can do for him?" Harry asked, addressing Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm afraid he'll have those scars for life, but we really are very lucky that the monster was not in his werewolf form and thus was unable to bite him," she said soberly.

"Someone ought to send for Dumbledore," Ron said, "He's always got some odd fix for stuff like this. And he owes Bill! He was out there risking his own neck for the sake of the school…"

"Ron – Dumbledore…he…" Harry choked, struggling to continue. Ginny tightened her grip around his hand.

"Dumbledore's dead," she finished for him. Several chilling seconds ticked by during which Hermione tried to process what she had just heard, but repeatedly failed to comprehend it fully. Ron's mouth fell open gently and his eyes widened in shock; Lupin sank heavily into a chair and buried his face in his hands; Tonks clasped a hand to her mouth and shook her head silently. Harry looked at no one, his gaze directed, instead, at some far-off point in the distance. All of this, Hermione observed, went on in perfect silence, save for Madam Pomfrey's soft weeping in the background, although everyone was so absorbed in their own momentary shock to notice or even care.

Several heads turned towards the door as it clanged open again and a somber-looking Professor McGonagall strode heavily into the room.

"Molly and Arthur are on their way…Everyone, I have some…well…some unfortunate…" she began in a strangled voice, and then stopped abruptly to wipe swiftly at her eyes. Hermione stared in disbelief. She had never imagined she would see McGonagall cry.

"They know," Harry said soberly.

"Oh, Harry – you were with him – Hagrid said…what happened?" she managed to string together a question through her returning tears and Harry took a long breath before answering.

"Yes. We had just landed on the Astronomy tower when we heard someone coming up the stairs," Harry said steadily, "and he – he immobilized me beneath the Invisibility cloak. Malfoy came through the door seconds later and he kept on about having orders from Voldemort to kill Dumbledore, but he was mucking about so much, I wasn't sure I believed he would actually do it. Dumbledore, he just kept talking to Malfoy – conversationally, even – trying to convince him to come over to the right side." The room was dead silent and Harry stared blankly ahead while reciting his account, as if he was envisioning it happening all over again.

"Malfoy told him everything. He let the Death Eaters into the school through the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement – it's connected to the one at Bourgin and Bourkes." Hermione felt a wave of shame roll over her. Harry had been right about Malfoy all this time and she had stupidly insisted that he stop worrying about what he was doing in the Room of Requirement…

"Hermione, that's also how Fenrir Greyback kept getting in, although it was apparently unintentional on Malfoy's part," Harry said, looking in her direction. She could hardly give a fraction of a damn about Fenrir Greyback at that moment. Still, something didn't match up and her investigative nature got the better of her.

"But, how did he get through a broken Vanishing Cabinet?"

"The way Malfoy described it, when the cabinet was broken, any person who tried to come through got horribly sliced up, but Greyback, being practically all-werewolf, and having a kind of super-human strength, managed to make it through roughly intact. When he was on his way out of the school after some sort of trial run, that's when he ran into us that night back in the fall. Apparently you made quite an impression because the second time, he came back of his own accord and hid in the Room of Requirement to jump Malfoy, threatening to kill him if he wasn't led to you." Hermione winced at all of this disturbing information. Lupin gently prodded Harry to continue.

"So then…Dumbledore just kept Malfoy talking and I – I could see him starting to crack…he was lowering his wand…but then, this group of Death Eaters got through…" Harry said, the strength of his voice dipping and reflecting that instant deflation in hope that had accompanied the arrival of the Death Eaters.

"Must've been that lot who managed to slip through," Tonks said quietly.

"They were all shouting at Malfoy to do it, but then _Snape _came through," Harry spat with unmistakable hatred, eyes blazing. At the unexpected utterance of that name, Hermione's throat tightened and her eyes anchored themselves to Harry's. She didn't bother to breathe, lest she miss what he was about to say.

"He knew exactly what was going on, it was like they were _expecting_ him…everyone just sort of stood aside and then he – he… he killed him. SNAPE KILLED DUMBLEDORE!" he shouted at them, consumed by his own rage.

The room erupted into a clamor, but Hermione had blocked it all out. She was seized by a sudden fit of vertigo and she swayed on the spot, reeling from Harry's last statement. She had no reason to doubt what he had said, therefore it must be the truth: Snape was a murderer. She felt everything and nothing simultaneously. Emotions careened into her mind and then dashed back out again as she tried to sort out where along the way she had missed the signs that Snape could be so basely evil…so cold-blooded and ungrateful that he would kill _Dumbledore_, whom Harry had told her trusted Snape unwaveringly.

But had she so completely lost her mind that she had been proceeding blindly all of this time? Of all the countless hours during which her thoughts had been unwillingly devoted to him throughout the year, not once had it crossed those same ruminations that he was capable of such an inhuman act. Yes, he was incredibly insulting, arrogant beyond belief, and uncommonly cruel at times, but she could have sworn she'd seen something more – something different – in his eyes, if only once or twice.

None of that mattered now though, she reminded herself. Now she couldn't bear to think of him with anything but deep confusion, threatening to cede at any moment to scathing revulsion. Out of all of the people in this room, surely _she_ ought to have seen this coming and done something to prevent it! They had all made mistakes that night, but she was undoubtedly the most at fault here – guilty of such a severe misjudgment of character, and one that so greatly disgusted her, that a sudden surge of nausea stirred in her stomach.

"Hermione?" Ginny said cautiously.

"How could he do something like this…I – I thought…I can't believe I was so _stupid_…" Hermione babbled, not caring how much of her illicit feelings she was revealing.

"It's a shock to all of us," McGonagall said distractedly from the chair she had fallen into, "We all thought he could be trusted. Dumbledore always swore he had an iron-clad reason to vouch for Snape's loyalty…but…perhaps we all should have been more suspicious_._"

"It certainly was no accident. There was no remorse in his face – he knew exactly what he was doing," Harry said darkly.

At this comment, they all lapsed into silence again. Soon enough, Molly and Arthur Weasley arrived and went immediately to their son's bedside. They were presently supplied with an abridged narrative of what had happened earlier in the night, with each party filling in its respective details. Hermione only half-way listened and eventually, McGonagall regained enough of her powers to tell her, Harry, Neville, and Luna to return to their houses if they had no injuries that wanted treatment.

Harry barely said a word to any of them on their way back to the tower and Hermione was glad for his silence because she feared that if they attempted to discuss any of the events of the evening she might fly into an insuppressible rage. They walked mechanically through the common room, passing silently through the sea of robed and slippered Gryffindors who had gathered there. At the door to the Girls' Dormitory Hermione touched Harry lightly on the arm.

"Wait a moment," she said.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but I really just – "

"I know. Trust me. I have something that will help."

She went swiftly to her trunk and poured out a generous portion of her hidden supply of Dreamless Sleeping Draught into a flask. She returned to Harry and when he realized what it was he thanked her with as much of a half-smile as he could muster before continuing on up the stairs. She promptly poured herself a dosage as well, and didn't even bother changing out of her battle-worn clothes before downing the potion, collapsing onto her bed, and allowing blissfully mindless sleep to claim her.

**And on that dreary note, I hope you enjoyed the chapter :) Feel free to let me know how much or how little via the lovely little review button below...**


	15. Chapter 14

___Chapter Fourteen_

The next few days drifted by in a blur. The Hogwarts staff had agreed it would only be fitting to bury Dumbledore on the grounds of the school, and to allow the students to remain for the funeral. All classes had been cancelled, but this hardly stemmed the flow of gossip and speculation that was circulating through the halls.

"I don't care what Mum says – I'm coming back next year," Seamus Finnigan was saying deliberately to a group of Sixth Years gathered in the Entrance Hall when Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked over to join the conversation.

"It's what Dumbledore would have wanted – right Harry?" he threw the question vigorously in Harry's direction, who fielded it with a dispassionate shrug.

"Look," Harry began, falteringly, "at this point, _I'm_ still trying to figure out what exactly Dumbledore wants. Hogwarts won't be the same without him, that's for sure…"

"But we'll have you, Harry!" Neville cried. Hermione glanced at Harry and saw him fidget slightly. He had informed her and Ron earlier that day that he had no intention of returning to the school, choosing instead to forsake his final year for the quest that Dumbledore had left him. Of course that meant she and Ron would not be attending Hogwarts either – no matter how many times Harry stubbornly insisted it was too dangerous.

"We will, won't we?" Neville asked when he saw Harry's hesitance.

"I don't know," Harry said softly. Hermione slid her hand up to his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

"I think things are very uncertain for us all at the moment," she said and received several nods of agreement around the circle.

"I've got a younger sister set to start her first year next fall," Ernie MacMillan chimed in, "but after my parents found out about Dumbledore, they've been saying they're going to keep her home. They want me to stay back as well, but I told them I wouldn't hear of it – as long as my friends are here, I'm coming back even if I have to sneak out of the bloody house!" He looked at Harry for encouragement; they all did. Harry seemed to draw some courage from all the sets of eyes fixed steadfastly on him.

"Well, I do know one thing," he began fiercely, "Dumbledore would have wanted us to fight. Someone's got to set a proper example for the younger ones next year when everything outside's gone to pot. That's going to have to be you guys." He excluded himself from the collective and drew several incredulous looks.

"But where will you go?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Don't rightly know, at the moment," Harry said honestly.

"But what – what will you do?" Susan Bones asked worriedly.

"I couldn't tell you that even if I wanted to" he said gruffly to the group gathered before him, all of whom had been members of the DA at some point, "I've got some…err…really important business to attend to and I can't come back here. But, it sure would be nice to know that Hogwarts is in good hands while I'm gone." A moment of silence greeted Harry's words, but then Neville spoke up.

"He's right," he said seriously, "Kids are bound to be scared what with You-Know-Who coming back and all. But Harry, you can trust us; we won't let anything happen to Hogwarts."

"Perhaps now would be a good time to announce the news?" Luna said mysteriously, and looked at Neville. He pulled an old coin that was instantly familiar to Hermione out of his pocket grinning.

"Well, me an' Luna –your sister too, Ron – we figured that the best thing we could do here at Hogwarts to honor Professor Dumbledore would be to reinstate the DA. You know, kind of like a tribute to his memory and everything he stood for. Of course, we thought Harry'd be here to lead it, but we can all pitch in and help to keep it going while he's gone."

"I don't know…you remember what happened last time. I can't have you guys getting into trouble for me all the time," Harry waffled.

"Oh Harry, don't be absurd," Hermione cried, "That is _exactly_ the kind of thing Dumbledore would have wholeheartedly – albeit secretly – approved of! And you just said yourself he would want us to fight!"

"If we can't go with you, Harry, we can at least protect the school until you've done whatever it is you've got to do," Neville said. Harry looked round at all of their earnest expressions; they all seemed to be on board with this plan. Finally, their insistence and obvious devotion got to him and he smiled – for the first time in days.

"Oh alright – " an excited tittering spread through the group " – but you all have _got_ to work on the whole not getting caught thing!"

"Don't worry about us, Harry. You just try not to get killed yourself, yeah?" Ernie joked.

"And if you need any help, you know we'll be there in a second," Neville avowed with a roguish grin.

"Wow…gee…thanks guys. All of you, really – I don't know what to say," Harry said, his resolve swelling with the passionate words of his friends.

"Words are often unnecessary," Luna affirmed serenely, "You may simply take comfort in knowing that the DA has always got your back."

As a group of teachers came down the stairs headed in their direction, the group broke apart discreetly and Harry, Hermione, and Ron headed off in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked once the trio was alone again.

"You know what, right now…yeah I am. I mean it sucks that I'm going to miss my last year at Hogwarts, but like I said, it won't be the same next year without Dumbledore. And someone's got to go and find those Horcruxes if Voldemort's going to be destroyed. Deep down, I've always known it'd have to be me – I don't even think I would be able to stand by and let someone else do it if I wanted to," Harry said with a small chuckle. They climbed into the entrance hole and into the sparsely populated common room.

"We're still coming with you, you know – ," Ron began but Harry waved him off with his hand.

"We'll talk about that later," he said, "Right now, we've got to go change for the funeral. Come on Ron. Hermione meet you in the common room in a few?"

Within the hour, the trio was trooping across the grounds towards the congregation of chairs arranged in rows by the lake. The weather was gorgeous, perhaps even ironically so – there wasn't a cloud in the brilliantly blue sky. It could hardly have offered a harsher contrast to the somber mood that gripped the funeral-goers. Harry looked around as they approached the crowd and saw that there were many old witches and wizards whom he had never even seen before. Every now and then, Hermione would blurt out a name in an excited whisper upon recognizing the individual from the various texts she had read.

"Merlin's Striped Trousers! That's _Farius Crawhorn_ – no one's done more for the field of Arithmancy than that man. You know, we wouldn't have any of the modern formulas if it wasn't for his research on – "

"Oh really? Quite fascinating, Hermione – now come on, we've got to find some seats; they're about to start," Ron hissed, and steered her through the crowd of morosely-clad witches and wizards towards three empty chairs.

Shortly after they had seated themselves towards the front of the sea of mourners, Professor McGonagall, as acting headmistress, stepped up to the podium that was set up at the front of the configuration. Hermione's eyebrows creased with concern for her Head of House when she saw the pitiful state the older witch was in. Despite her smart black robes and immaculately tight bun, the rest of her appearance was in utter disrepair. She took off her spectacles before beginning her address and Hermione could clearly see the dark shadows settled under her red-ringed eyes, whose characteristic sparkle had vanished and been replaced with a sort of dull hollowness.

"Bloody Hell…McGonagall's in a right state," Ron muttered, somewhat stunned.

"Well what did you expect!" Hermione snapped, leaning over Harry, who was sitting in between them, to glare at him. She was once again amazed at his continued inability to comprehend the concept of human emotion. He opened his mouth to protest, but just then, McGonagall waved her wand and a neat, pristinely bound program appeared on everyone's lap.

Hermione picked hers up and was greeted by an image of their late headmaster smiling demurely back at her. The man in the photograph appeared to be much younger than the Dumbledore she had known at Hogwarts. His red hair and beard were shorter and he had not yet adopted the elaborate purple robes, although he was already sporting the signature half-moon spectacles.

"What a load of codswallop," Harry muttered angrily to her right. While she had been marveling at the youthful Dumbledore on the cover page, Harry had leafed through to the section which gave a brief description of the great wizard's life – the paragraph's contents changing every so often so as to provide the most possible information without taking up an entire role of parchment .

"What?" Ron whispered.

"Look at this," Harry said, leaning forward and violently thrusting his program out in front of himself. He narrated out loud as their eyes skimmed the offending section:

"…Albus Dumbledore's life came to a sorrowful end on the 14th of June. Following an unfortunate accident which occurred on the premises of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"

Harry broke off and glared at them mutinously. "Accident my _arse_," he hissed, loudly enough that a stuffy, old witch seated in front of them turned around and frowned at him. Hermione was about to apologize for him when Harry, still incensed, piped up sarcastically, "Yes? can I help you?" The witch promptly twisted back around with an indignant harrumph.

"Well this has got to be a Ministry-made product," Harry scoffed, handling the pamphlet as if it were a dead fish.

"Next thing you know, they'll be declaring a national Death Eater Appreciation Day and holding a parade for Snape…speaking of, I hope I meet the greasy git somewhere along the way – he'll regret ever having crossed me at all," Harry growled softly, too caught up in his plans for revenge to notice Hermione turn her head sharply to his left.

_His_ name had been a sort of taboo amongst the three of them for the past couple of days, and the wound had shown hopeful signs of clotting and possibly even scarring over, but Harry had just unfortunately and inadvertently ripped the scab open again in about ten seconds. She had focused her best efforts on simply hating the man, and she envied Harry for the ease with which he seemed to be able to conjure the sentiment. Immediately following Dumbledore's death, she had hardly been able to wrap her head around the concept that Snape had killed him – had actually taken the life of another human being in cold blood – but his absence had dutifully worked in favor of solidifying his villainous status in her mind. That is, she knew him to be an evil man who warranted nothing but absolute, downright hatred on her part, but for some reason she was having trouble accessing the actual emotion.

Her mood threatened to turn even fouler than it already was until she reminded herself that it hardly mattered at all right now. Here she was, sitting at her beloved headmaster's funeral – her thoughts need not be anywhere but with the man whose life they were commemorating, and they ought _not_ to be with the man who had killed him.

She jumped in her seat when a loud noise akin to a foghorn blast sounded behind her suddenly. Hagrid, who was standing in the back as none of the chairs were large enough to accommodate his bulky frame, had blown his nose with particular gusto, causing several people to start muttering disapprovingly amongst themselves. McGonagall, however, seemed to appreciate the gesture as she nodded to him in grievous solidarity before struggling through the rest of her opening remarks.

The remainder of the funeral proceedings took up another hour and a half, with speeches and readings by Hogwarts faculty members and Dumbledore's more distinguished acquaintances alike. Some were teary and long-winded, some stoic and brief, but all who spoke were brimming with sincerity and heartfelt appreciation of the man and the legacy he had left behind.

After the last speaker had left the podium, the casket was lowered into a white marble tomb overlooking the lake. It was a final resting place that seemed fitting for the great wizard, Hermione thought. Following the burial, the guests began to mingle, though Hermione stood apart from the crowd with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They were soon interrupted, however, when Rufus Scrimgeour accosted Harry for "a word, if he pleased".

"Don't care much for that bloke," Ron muttered as they caught the last audible bits of Scrimgeour's assurances of his heartfelt sorrow and Harry's less than enthusiastic response.

"Can't say I do, either," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. The three of them headed back up to the castle and Hermione was silent, distracted by travel plans.

"Ron, have you finished packing yet?" she asked when they were once again back in the Gryffindor common room.

"Uhh…almost," he replied sheepishly.

"Which means he hasn't started yet," Ginny chirped.

"Well get a move on it then," Hermione huffed at him, "you do know we're leaving tomorrow!"

Ron mumbled something about Hermione and his mother as he trudged up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

The next morning, though, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Ron and Harry met her and Ginny on time, at the appointed hour of 8:30 AM, in the common room. The four of them lugged their trunks, with some magical assistance, down to the entrance hall and plopped them onto one of the trolleys that was running back and forth between the school and the train platform.

"Well this is it – say goodbye," Ron said ceremoniously as they stepped out onto the path which led down to the Hogsmeade station. They turned around and stood silently for a moment, gazing up at the stately jumble of turrets and towers that was their beloved school and had been like their home for the past six years.

"Oh you three are such saps," Ginny clipped, "You know you'll be back here at some point or another. It's pretty much inevitable."

She slipped an arm around Harry's waist and pulled his hand over her shoulder as they continued down the path together. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other awkwardly and followed behind, making several hearty attempts at idle conversation to occupy themselves.

No sooner had they all boarded the Hogwarts Express than it seemed the train was pulling into Platform Nine-and-three-quarters. Spotting her parents, Hermione turned to Harry and Ron.

"Well it looks like this is goodbye. For now, at least. I'll see you both very soon at the Burrow. Be good, you two – don't do anything dumb, Ronald – "

"Why do you always think _I'm_ gonna –" Ron said indignantly.

"And Harry," she interrupted him, "please take care of yourself, and be careful!" Harry smiled at her amusedly.

"Of course, Hermione. Spare some concern for yourself, yeah?" She bit her lip guiltily before gathering both of her best friends in a hug.

"Bye!" she called over her shoulder as she tugged her luggage trolley over to where her parents were waiting.

"There's our girl!" her father beamed as she approached them.

"Welcome back, sweetie," her mother said, hugging her daughter warmly. Mr. Granger took the handle of Hermione's trolley and they all walked back to the car together. Once they had all piled in, Mrs. Granger – who had always insisted on driving despite the traditional masculine occupation of the role– turned the key in the ignition and they were off.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" she asked, glancing at her daughter in the rear-view mirror.

"Oh no, Mum, everything's fine," Hermione answered quickly, swapping her contemplative frown for a more blithe expression.

"How was your second term?" her father asked.

"Erm…it was…interesting," Hermione floundered on how best to describe some of the most tumultuous months of her life.

"Very…educational," she decided on, finally, hoping she hadn't given her parents any cause for suspicion. They seemed satisfied and the conversation moved along to her friends.

"How was Harry? Had he asked her out on a date yet? No? Just friends? Well that was fine, too. And Ron, how about him? Did she still think he was a 'Pig-Headed Adolescent' as she had said once in a letter? Sort of? Well, he'll grow out of it eventually."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, both dentists, began to discuss some of their more interesting patients with their daughter, but Hermione was only listening enough to know when to nod and contribute some exclamation of disbelief to the conversation. Mentally, she was debating the best plan of action for her parents' safety, as they would undoubtedly be in danger when it was discovered that she was closely connected with Harry Potter. But if she could send them somewhere completely obscure, and contrive it so that not even _they_ knew who they were anymore, at least temporarily…

"Hey…Mum? Dad?" she hedged, and saw her mother's eyebrow pop up in the mirror, "can I ask you both a question?"

She paused before continuing.

"How do you feel about Australia?"

**So this is, admittedly, not a very exciting chapter but we're finally getting to the beginning of the exciting part (I hope you will find it is, at least!) I apologize in advance for delays in updates because as school has started again, my productivity will inevitably decline. BUT I do know of something that might make it spike again and it's a lovely, little, greenish button located below...;)**


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